#he's all raspy and recovering; he's doing his best but it's all body at this point even with his abyssal and hydro-aligned healing

[inhumanheresy]

Yana is no healer, so she has no choice but to place her trust in the doctors and caregivers at the hospital. They have the experience and knowhow to ensure that Tartaglia is given the best fighting chance to pull back from the precipice of life he dangles from, yet there is no small part of her that feels helpless that she cannot do anything more than watch, wait, offer her company to his unconscious form and remind him that she still needs him.

Arlecchino had briefed her on what happened in Fontaine, with the primordial sea and what information she could glean and deliver from the events that took place, and Yana would be lying if she tried to say that her immediate thoughts weren't to condemn Fontaine to an early oblivion, raze it to the seabed, freeze the ocean and smite the people. The Chief Justice. The Archon, had she not already abdicated. Though Yana raged within her palace, screaming, cursing, swearing damnation upon Fontaine and the Primordial Sea, the exhaustion that followed her storm reminded her that Fontaine could not help its location, what resided beneath.

No, if anything, her Tartaglia was brave for fighting so long against an unimaginably difficult beast, staving off the effects of the Sea so he could live - and she focuses on that instead of the helpless anger she feels at not being able to do anything. At being unable to have helped him then, and still now.

The room clears when she arrives to visit, interrupted only occasionally by healers checking in on him. Her hand rests against his forehead, her frown soft and her eyes melancholy as he fights for life. Always a fighter, even now. "Come back, my Tartaglia," she says softly, not the first time she has said these words since he was returned to Snezhnaya, but, as with every other time she has spoken them, she hopes this time will be the last. That he will awaken now. "I need you back here."

A voice registers at the edge of his senses, soft and foggy in such a way that the words themselves escape both understanding and recognition, but the sound feels warm. Familiar. It draws him towards it in both a want to understand and a desire to be close.

His eyes flutter open, vision hazy in the way of a long, restful sleep. Within that unfocused gaze is… white? Blue? There are pale, cold colours that remind him of… of home, of the last sprint back to the house through the snow and the spruce and the fir, scents sharp and clear aside the muscle burn. Of the glacier that rests in the mountains above Morepesok, expanding and contracting with the seasons like a living, breathing thing as it accumulates snow or lets meltwater flow down to the sea during summer for the salmon runs.

White. White and frosty and home.

“My Tsaritsa,” he says, and his voice creaks out with the gritty, halting depth of long disuse, almost unintelligible. “I—”

A cough interrupts him, a second and more, the need to forcibly clear his throat after so long without speaking, but his words, though still grinding against his throat with the accumulated rust, are a touch clearer after he does so. “Your Majesty.”

Emotions softens his words despite the roughness of their actual delivery, or perhaps softens is the wrong word — Tartaglia’s entire countenance perks up upon recognizing Her presence, even as addled as his perception is right now, and his face brightens in Her presence even when his eyes cannot.

“The battle.” He breathes it, earnest and eager, and the rise of his chest isn’t as high as it should be— or is it? “There was—” Another breath, heaving, now that he’s wakeful and alert. Ish. He remembers— he remembers stars-roots-water, the bright, thick, familiar tendrils of a tree reaching down-up through a vast sea that he somehow remembers both above and below him, but the constellations are different, and the overwhelming presence that he dreamt when he first fell into the Abyss, but now he is ready—

His hand twitches; he manages to move his arm somewhat, reaching for Her, his guiding star—

“The battle. How did it end?”

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve was a late bloomer. He didn't expect to present as an omega right after seeing a bloody Eddie Munson into the ER.

His biological changes weren't a problem at first. He found his perky tits and even newly-slit cunt easily acceptable. They just felt right on his body.

His peace only lasted until he visited Eddie in the hospital and slicked his underwear beyond repair.

It was embarrassing and also pathetic because he was quite certain Eddie didn't want him that way.

He knew the alpha just flirted with him for fun like everyone else.

To fix it, Steve began wearing scent blockers religiously, dressing in more layers, and using pads to keep his slick from leaking out and ruining the sterilized air.

So far, it was a success. No one batted an eye when he got a little wet whenever he sat beside Eddie's bed.

Even Robin—his platonic soulmate who had always been in tuned with him—didn't pick up his inappropriate behavior.

As for Eddie, the alpha just became friendlier with him; kissing his hands, giving him more flatteries, hugging him tighter and longer than the others, etc.

Though Steve was flustered by the new development, he reminded himself that it likely meant nothing to Eddie.

Still, he couldn't stop finding excuses to see Eddie nearly every day.

Eventually, Eddie was discharged, went through every PT session with admirable strength and determination, and recovered beautifully.

They held a party to celebrate it and Steve was rosy cheeked with joy when Eddie stuck by his side the whole time. And even followed him everywhere like a lost puppy.

It was cute.

Even though Robin kept saying otherwise.

Eddie seemed to decide they were best friends now. Because wherever Steve went, the alpha would be right beside him.

Steve didn't find it as annoying as he had thought. Since Robin and Vickie were in their moonstruck phase, she couldn't spend as much time with him anymore.

He was happy for her, but it was also kinda lonely. A problem that Eddie's constant presence had quickly resolved.

They would hang out and do everything together; cooking, doing chores, listening to the music, watching movies, getting high, and even sleeping.

It wasn't right for an unmated omega to get so close to an unmated alpha, but their bond ran deeper than their carnal instincts. A few cuddles wouldn't hurt their friendship.

Or so Steve told himself.

Because he had to change his panties at least thrice a night before going to bed to not disturb his friend with his situation.

"Where are you goin'?" Eddie muttered sleepily just as Steve tried to get out the alpha's arms.

On the other hand, his body had been acting weird lately. Producing more slick than usual and becoming more sensitive.

It might be his fault for letting Eddie into his nest all the time, but it wasn't like he could help it, either.

Jesus. Even Eddie's raspy voice already made his cunt pulse with want.

Steve felt thankful that he didn't give up his scent blockers. Otherwise, he'd no doubt smell like a bitch in heat right now.

"Nature's call," Steve mumbled, frowning slightly when Eddie's hold just got tighter around him and the musky scent grew thicker.

"'S your slick, isn't it?" Hot lips pressed to his ear, making him stop cold. "Yeah, I can smell it. Been wanting to taste how sweet you are, omega."

Steve gulped dryly, his brain turned hazier and hazier with lust. And yet...

"W– Why didn't you say anything?"

"And chased you off?" Eddie chuckled and squeezed a hand between his thighs, feeling his wetness and scratching his clit lightly through the cotton. "No way, baby."

Steve closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, choking on the scent of a very aroused and virile alpha.

He didn't know why his blockers didn't work, but the heat of Eddie's palm on his clothed cunt was distracting enough that he just stopped questioning it altogether.

"Be gentle with me," he craned his neck to meet those dark wild eyes.

"You got it, angel," Eddie rolled him on his back and kissed him sweetly. "Gonna worship your pretty cunt for the rest of my life."

And Eddie did.

Eating him out every given chance and everywhere; on the bed, in the kitchen, in the back of the van, on the couch, in the shower.

And when Steve's heat arrived a few days later, Eddie had happily stayed up all night just to suffocate in the sea of slick before knotting him over and over again in the morning.

Which, consequently, triggered the alpha's rut and led to Steve being kept in bed for another week.

And by the end of it all, he was thoroughly bred and ravaged.

Eventually, Steve figured it out once they became mates. His blockers still worked just fine.

Eddie was the problem.

He was a horn dog who had sniffed out Steve's slick and got addicted to it.

But fortunately, Eddie had agreed to make do with his used panties whenever Steve was too sore to let him near his cunt.

The only problem was that Steve now had to guard his favorite pairs very closely.

[lanadelnegan]

Crush - Part 2

Gym Teacher Negan x Female Reader

read part one here

Summary: Coach Negan finds you smoking and decides to punish you.

Warnings: smut, 18+, nsfw, extreme sexual tension, smoking, choking, rough face-fucking, negan degrading you, praising you and calling you "good girl"

final part coming soon!

The majority of your final week of high school has been spent replaying the imagine of your teacher fisting his cock in his hand while moaning your name.

Your feelings are still slightly hurt from the comment he made before you hurried out of his office that day, but you've had a few days to recover from it. You've found that smoking cigarettes helps calm you down, so you find a way to sneak off a couple times during your school day to light one up.

You lean your head against the brick wall outside of the gym as you blow a trail of smoke from your mouth, daydreaming of your new favorite memory. You'll be late to P.E. again, but what's new.

You've dodged Negan as much as possible the last two days, avoiding any possibility of him bringing up the awkward moment of you walking in on him. As far as he knows, you've forgotten all about it. Although that couldn't be further from the truth.. it's all you think about actually. Especially at night in bed when you touch yourself.

You feel an ache between your legs as you stand with your back against the cold brick wall. You have to physically restrain from touching yourself right there until the sound of the gym doors swing open, grabbing your attention.

When you turn your head, Negan's eyes are on you as he saunters towards you. You secretively hold the cigarette down by your side, not wanting to draw his attention to it.

"Being late is one thing. But smoking on school property? Have you lost your damn mind?"

"You've done worse." You say, blowing the puff of smoke you were holding in your mouth directly on his face. He grins sarcastically, placing his right hand above your head on the wall.

"Such a smart ass little mouth."

Your gaze drops to his lips when he speaks, and the smell of his minty breath makes your knees weak. His grin widens knowingly at the sight of you staring at his mouth before he reaches for your cigarette, stealing it from your fingers and bringing it to his own lips. He draws in a breath, inhaling the smoke before blowing it out directly into your mouth. Your lips part slightly, accepting it without hesitation.

Somehow it feels even more intimate than kissing, as you breath in each other's air and gaze lustfully at one another. His hazel eyes drop to your mouth as his body leans closer, trapping you against the wall.

You can feel his hard bulge through his jeans and you cry on the inside, wanting to slap him for not choosing to wear basketball shorts today.

You slowly reach for the front of his pants, but he grabs your wrist gently, pushing it against the wall beside you. He brings his mouth close to your ear and the side of his neck is temptingly close to your lips. You imagine darting your tongue out and licking it, wondering what his skin tastes like.

His deep, raspy voice fills your ear, sending chills down your body to your toes. "If I catch one of these in your mouth again..." He drops the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe. "I'll replace it with something much bigger. And as pleasing as that probably sounds to you, I will not make it enjoyable."

Your body visibly shutters at his words and he backs away, leaving you shaky and desperate.

"Get it together, y/l/n." He chuckles, suddenly back in character and putting on his best Coach Negan voice while entering the gym doors.

Fuck. You gather yourself enough to follow behind him a few minutes later. When you enter the gym, your peers are lined up on the court doing their stretches and you fall into place, finding a spot in the back. You sit down, stretching your legs apart and out in front of you while leaning forward and struggling to reach your toes with your fingertips.

Negan approaches you chuckling. "Oh, darlin'.. I know you can stretch further than that." He crouches down directly in front of you. "Need some motivation? I'm right here... Reach for me, doll." He taunts, whispering the last part for only the two of you to hear.

You lock eyes with him and reach forward, finally grabbing your toes as your face comes closer to his. "That's my good fuckin' girl." He smirks proudly before standing to his feet and cockily walking off.

Your face reddens as you feel more wetness pool in your panties. You've never been so horny and desperate for a man's cock in your life and it almost brings you to tears. Knowing how big and thick he is behind his jeans just makes you crave him more and you can't help but stare. He's bigger than any boy you've been with before and you know he would obliterate you.

"Something on your mind, y/n?" He calls out, making your classmates turn their heads to look at you. Your eyes widen and he winks at you, resting his hands on his hips.

"No sir." You say back, avoiding his gaze.

"Alright, we're gonna do something fun today since tomorrow is sadly our last day together." Negan announces, looking towards you at the end of his sentence. Your heart aches a little at this words.

Since tomorrow is sadly our last day together.

"Since only a handful of you showed up today, we're gonna do a scrimmage game." He bounces the basketball lazily while he goes over the rules, and your heart races with nervous excitement.

He chooses a team captain to play against him as they both take turns choosing their players. You wait patiently for Negan to say your name, but find yourself disappointed when moments pass and the others have been picked while you and the only other girl in class stand alone.

To even more surprise, Negan says the other girl's name while simultaneously grinning at you and you scrunch your brows at him angrily.

Okay. If that's how he wants to be.

"Man to man." Negan says, not taking his eyes off of you, claiming you as his.

Negan disappears into the locker room to change and you practically drool when he comes back out in basketball shorts and a white t-shirt.

Your team has the ball as you stand close by the goal next to Negan, who casually guards you. Neither one of you are that into the game, but more focused on teasing each other.

Negan stands directly behind you, pressing his body lightly against yours and you let yourself sink into him. His mouth leans next to your ear like before and all you want is to reach your hands behind you and feel him.

"Pay attention, doll. You seem distracted."

You don't have time to respond before your teammate passes you the ball and you turn, trying to shoot. Negan keeps his hands by his sides as he lets you attempt your shot.

Surprisingly you make it and you look to Negan, expecting him to talk trash, but instead he grins proudly.

"That's my fuckin' girl."

He says, running past you to the other side of the court. You follow him closely and his player passes him the ball quickly. Negan steps back, bouncing the ball and giving you the chance to get in front of him.

He bites his lip, loving your enthusiasm as you're determined not to let him score. When he attempts to go past you, you step in front of him and push your body into his roughly but it only causes you to lose your balance and stumble. You grab onto the front of his shirt, bringing him down with you as he falls on top of you, catching himself with his hand before crushing you.

His mouth is right above yours as he smirks. He goes to stand up, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone, and subtly thrusts his hips into you before standing to his feet and lifting you up with him.

"Well obviously that's a foul, guess I get a free throw." He stands at the line to shoot, but misses the first shot, shocking all of you since he never misses unless it's on purpose.

"Something on your mind, coach? You seem distracted." You tease and he shoots you a warning glare.

He makes the next shot, looking to you. "Not at all. Takes a lot to get my attention." He smiles, running past you.

The game comes to an end when he makes the winning shot.

"And that? is how it's fucking done." He laughs, dismissing you all for the day.

Your classmates head to the lockers to collect their things and you follow behind them before Negan stops you, grabbing your wrist.

Your pulse races at the two of you being the only ones left standing in the gym.

"Don't be a sore fuckin' loser, baby." He teases, looking down at you.

"Maybe I let you win."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just fuckin' better than you." His head tilts as you look into his flirty eyes before pushing past him and joining the other girl in the locker room.

"He wants you bad." The girl says, changing into her clothes.

"What?" You ask, sitting on the bench next to her.

"Coach Negan.. It's so obvious, don't play dumb." She laughs annoyed before grabbing her bag and leaving.

You watch her leave, wondering if you two were really that obvious. Does everyone else see it too?

You decide to undress, turning on one of the showers and taking advantage of the empty locker room while you can. Most of your friends can't wait for school to be out, but the thought of never coming back here makes you depressed.

You light a cigarette to make yourself feel better, taking a few puffs while you lean against the side of the shower and wait for the water to heat up.

You press your cigarette into the counter, laying it there for later as you step into the hot shower. You lean against the wall, letting the water run over you as your favorite image floods your mind. Your hand drops to your pussy, finding your clit and rubbing slowly, imagining Negan between your legs.

"Negan.." You moan out, opening your eyes and quickly jerking your hand away when you lock eyes with Negan, who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed disappointedly.

"Wanna explain?" He asks and you blush as you try to cover yourself unsuccessfully.

"I was - I just.." You stutter, looking down at yourself.

"Not that. Hell, I was even gonna let you finish." He explains before holding up your cigarette. "This.. remember what I said?"

You nod, gulping noticeably as your heart beats hard with anticipation of your punishment. He flicks the cigarette in the trash before stepping in the shower with you and you back away slightly, giving him room.

"What are you waiting for then? On your fuckin' knees."

You stare at him wide-eyed, watching the water soak through his white shirt as it clings to him, revealing his toned body and dark chest hair. You slowly drop to your knees, trying to get comfortable in the small shower as your ass rests against the back of your legs.

"Take it out, sweetheart." He says, staring down at you as you obey him and pull his pants down to his ankles and off his feet, not taking your eyes off his hard length in front of your face. You eagerly lean forward to take him in your mouth, but his hand grips the back of your hair, urging you to look up at him.

"Not so fast, remember this is a fuckin' punishment, doll." You try looking up at him but the water sprays against his stomach and onto your face.

He grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth and tapping the tip against your lips until you open for him. He pushes past your lips as your mouth stretches around him and you moan, closing your eyes as the water runs down your face.

His hands rest behind you on the shower wall as he leans over you, thrusting his hips and pushing himself deeper down your throat each time. You gag around him and try to pull your head back but his hand falls to your head, holding you in place.

"You're gonna take all of me, baby." He breathes out heavily, holding your head down until your nose is pressed into his soft dark curls. You struggle, unable to breathe as his length completely obstructs your airway.

You push on his thighs, panicking as your eyes water. He finally pulls back, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him as he bends down, hovering his face over yours.

You inhale a deep breath, taking in all the air you can get while you have the opportunity. Water drips off his wet hair, running down his face as he stares at you through dark, wet lashes.

He's so fucking pretty. You think to yourself as he grins, squeezing your face tighter.

"You are so fuckin' pretty like this." He says, echoing your own thoughts. "I am no where near down with that mouth, doll. I've waited so long so see you take my cock. Gonna fuck your face until I goddamn ruin you." He whispers aggressively before spitting directly into your mouth.

You swallow his saliva, secretly loving his roughness. He notices your slight grin and his face turns cold and serious.

"You enjoying this, sweetheart?"

You nod desperately, eager for him to use you.

"Can't have that, baby. Guess I'll have to try harder, huh?"

Fear washes over you, not knowing what's to come as he suddenly leans back up into his original position.

Without warning, he slams your head back against his cock completely, making you choke around him. His other hand is back against the wall behind you as guides you using your hair and roughly fucks your face. He angles your head back slightly, letting the shower waterboard you and you struggle.

He thrusts into your mouth relentlessly, until your jaw aches and you turn almost blue from lack of oxygen.

“Fuck” He grunts, pulling his dick out of your mouth quickly at the sight of you almost passing out, before squeezing his large hand around your throat and pulling you up off your knees.

You feel dizzy and disoriented, but he presses his body against yours, pinning you to the wall to hold you up. "Hey, breathe, baby. Breathe." He lightly slaps your face as you slowly regain consciousness.

Once he knows you're okay, he wipes the mascara running down your cheeks with his thumbs and grins proudly at you.

"You gonna touch another fuckin' cigarette?"

You shake your head no, trying to slow your breathing and calm down.

"Good girl." He praises you. "Finish up and get dressed, doll. Don't want your parents wonderin' where the hell you are."

You hear him chuckle as he exits the locker room with a towel wrapped around him, leaving you with panting and aching painfully between your legs.

And you realize.. that’s the real punishment.

Final part :)

[dutiful-wildcraft]

I re-emerge with a soft and vaguely angsty Nik/Price/F!Reader

Unedited, 1k, enjoy <3

It's not unusual for Nikolai to look after her while Price is away. As a matter of fact it grew common, the burly Russian staying with her more often than not, even when John was home.

And what had originally been a friendly extension of John, extra security at her call, had evolved into another soft body in their bed, both men's mingled cologne sinking into her sheets as she slept tucked between them.

However, these last few days had been devoid of soft embraces and stolen kisses, but rather wretched coughing and sniffly noses. 

Nikolai, has been sick as shit for days.

Thankfully, he'd been minding her with only a small amount of caterwauling. Huffing and puffing about her not sleeping beside him, whining as sickly boys are want to do.

His raspy voice somehow stupidly effective in getting him his way. 

Can I have more blankets lisichka? he rumbles pitifully.

What will we have for lunch?  he asks with big brown eyes. 

As if he could keep anything more than cheese and crackers down.

Unable to sleep due to Nikolai’s chainsaw level congestion snores, she slinks down stairs in the wee hours of the morning. Having already decided to make her favorite comfort food. Something simple, savory and carb heavy for the pair of them. 

On a whim she gives John a video call, setting it up on the counter while it rings and rings. 

She hardly expects him to answer, he rarely does.  And considering he'd already been gone 4 out of his supposed 6 week stint, she was sure her man was still up to his chest in work.

She's got a maw full of shredded cheese when John's voice rings through the receiver.

“Hello darling”

She sputters, recovering quickly to flash him a big goofy smile.

“Hey love” she whispers back, heart fit to burst as she takes him. There isn't much to see, just the pale light of his phone illuminating his features in the darkness. His beard is scruffy, bags under his eyes far too heavy for her liking. 

“Hello” he repeats again, an infinite fondness in his voice. His sweet cheeks pulled up into that little smile that still makes her blush. She sheepishly brushes the remnant shredded cheese off her tits, tries to quickly adjust her hair. 

She can see her own image reflected in the top corner of her screen, she looks like hammered hell honestly. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, clad in ratty stained oversized shirt. She almost feels a little guilty for not looking more presentable for him when he chimes in again.

“Missed that sweet face.” he murmurs, and all those nagging thoughts plop right from her noggin. The goofy man would think she'd look hot in a trash bag. 

“Missed your face too baby, you okay?” She knows better than to ask about the op, instead lets him pick and choose what he likes to talk about. 

“Much better now, might even be home sooner than we thought.”

Her ears perk at that, spiritual tail wagging hopefully. She missed him dearly, occasionally shed tears in the lonely showers away from Nikolai, when the weight became to much for her to bare. She does her best not to say anything, doesn't want him to feel bad for being so far away. Instead she sends him updates, pictures of the animals, of her meals, this weeks favorite song.

He doesn't reply, she knows he can't, but he does read them, follows up with each one in a big text or call when he can. Somehow holding the details despite whatever hell he sees.

“What you makin’ over there?” he cuts in, trying to eye the counter with a raised brow through the screen. 

“I was hankerin’ for some potato soup, thought the patient would like it too.” she chuckles a bit.

“Mmm, sweet thing aren't you? How is he?”

“He's only a little whiny, spends his day trying to coax me close enough to cough on me, claims he just wants a cuddle” she laughs.

John chuckles too, shaking his head with a fond exasperation.“Well, you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Huh? Right now? I was just calling…you can get your rest babe, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I'm far from tired with a pretty thing cookin for me, now go on.”

She flashes him a knowing look. John Price was no chef, he did well enough, but she'd caught him on more than one occasion following along to the little cooking videos he'd dug up on the internet. Especially those made by other soft southern women.

With an expectant look she continues her work, cutting vegetables and getting the stock pot ready. 

“Talk to me love, need to hear your voice.” he reminds her. 

Not want. Need. And who was she to deny him? So with a little fumbling she starts narrating, mimicking the smooth diction she'd often heard in those same videos, biting back a smile as she watches John fight sleep. Tired baby blues drooping lower and lower, closing briefly before the sharp snick of cut carrots stirs him again. Eyes straining to keep watch.

Sweet man.

She knows he's exhausted, more so than she can probably imagine. What hell he's had to dodge up until this point, and possibly a few days more until he can see them again.

Something in her chest stirs at how he stills for her, easily drawn into the soft bubble of comfort she can provide at such a distance. Lulled easily by a silly soup recipe, simply because it's her voice. She wonders now if he uses her voice messages similarly. She wonders if he would let her read him to sleep.

She files it away. Along with the thought of sending him softer voice messages for when he's away. 

She looks to him again, bristly face squished against his pillow. Eyes closed serenely. 

“Wanna know my secret?” she asks, soft and playful, watching one of his pretty blue eyes creak open at her tone.

“W'sat luv?” 

“I use instant mashed potatoes to thicken up my soup, makes it extra potatoe-y” she giggles.

“My clever girl” he mumbles dreamily, followed by a string of more barely intelligible praise. It rolls easy and proud from his chest, voice no more than a sleepy purr that makes a grin split her face. 

By the time she's finished up John is fully asleep, his measured breaths pouring through the receiver just shy of a real snore.

Her heart aches deep in her chest, a chunk of it long gone and far far away in the form of one John Price, and while she can see him now, know he's alive and relatively well, she longs more than anything to crawl in next to him. Hold him close tucked beneath her chin, where she can keep him warm and safe herself.

As if on cue, a pair of strong arms wrap around her middle, Nikolai’s hot cheek pressed to her temple where he briefly lays a kiss. This time she doesn't fight him. 

Getting sick be damned.

“Pretty thing isn't he?” Nikolai rumbles quietly, eyeing the phone screen with those fond brown eyes. 

She simply hums an affirmative in his arms, words caught in her throat by the emotion that's threatening to escape her. 

Nik seems to catch on, giving her a soft squeeze. “How is he?” he whispers instead, voice low to not wake the man on the other side of the world.

The question is able to at least shake a little out of her. “He seems okay, worn out, fell asleep watching me cook.” She watches John for another moment before sucking in a deep sigh, squirming around in Niks arms to face him, tuck herself into his arms. 

“I'm just ready for him to be home” she mumbles into the soft plush of his chest.

Nik pulls her in closer, warm hands petting along her back, squeezing the back of her neck soothingly. “Me too, malyshka” he returns, the weight of John's absence equally heavy in his own voice. 

The pair stay there for some time, swaying gently in each other's embrace, listening to John's soft snores until the sun paints their meager kitchen gold.

[crushribbons]

please for the love of all things good if you could write a smut abt bestfriend!sebastian where he sneaks into our dorm room in the middle of the night (for the 5th time that week) because he can’t sleep 🙏 thank you in advance

ohhhh so you speak my love language helllll yeahhhh

(went a slightly dif direction teehee xx 18+ ONLY!)

---

"Is this going to be an every night type of thing?"

"Mm, yeah, every night that your feet are this warm."

Sebastian's own feet (or rather, icicles) slid under hers and she hissed and tried to yank the duvet away from him. He whined, cuddling closer to her and setting her skin on fire in the process.

She stammered, "B-back off, you hog," and Sebastian wrapped his arms tighter. His frame tucked so neatly around her, she hated how natural it felt. He was so fucking cold--why was sweat beading across her chest?

He was humming under his breath. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts! Teach us something, please."

"Don't," she groaned. "It'll be in my head all week."

Silence settled between them. The room felt heavy and still, and she was keenly aware of how her heart would thump every time Sebastian shifted around. Her owl sighed a wispy trill. She strained her ears towards the door, hoping to determine whether those were footsteps shifting around downstairs. Sebastian sensed her train of thought.

"Your parents went to bed ages ago."

"They still might have heard the door."

"We are twenty-one years old," Sebastian laughed, husky, in her ear. Fuck. "And your mother seems to think we ought to be wed to one another or some similar type of nonsense."

Words, her brain urged her. Say words. Now!

"She just loves having company for the holidays. She'd want me to marry a grindylow if it told her that her apple crumble was scrumptious."

A huff of air from Sebastian's nose hit the back of her neck, and she didn't need to see her own reflection to know she was bright red. She wished on every star that she could make out through the gauzy curtains that he had worn a shirt to bed. He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was.

How much longer could they toe this line? Seeing each other almost every day after work, visiting each other's family homes for the holidays, falling asleep at each other's flats and, as a result, far too often, crawling into the same bed with the sometimes muttered excuse, "Warmer this way."

All he had to do was say the word, any word, and she'd make this whole thing a lot less...friendly.

"What are these garments you adorn yourself in, m'lady?" Sebastian grumbled as he felt the foreign material at her hips between his fingertips. She swallowed back the moan that rose in her throat. Silly, getting this hot and bothered over a little physical contact. Then his hands were sliding down her hips inquisitively and the moan slipped out without warning. She scrambled to recover.

"Silk," she replied, her voice raspy.

"Too fancy for me," Sebastian sighed, and he let his body crumple completely into hers, and it was heaven and bliss, and Sebastian had finally warmed up so she let herself melt into him. Everything was blurring pleasantly around the edges of her vision: the room, the outline of the sleeping tawny owl by the window, the boundary between her and her dear, best friend Sebastian, who at that very moment was snaking one hand away from her waist and pressing it down between his hips and the curve of her ass.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and when Sebastian tsk'ed in annoyance, she realized exactly what he was doing and humiliation flushed her cheeks.

He tried to pull away from her a few inches, and she whined, "Hey--you're just getting all warm!" but she felt him shake his head. She rolled over to face him and he closed his eyes when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm, uh." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, then dared to open one and peek at her. "I'm sorry. I kinda got..." He gestured down to his free hand, which was currently doing its best to conceal...

Her cunt throbbed, wetness pooling. He was hard, and the hand pressing his erection down couldn't cover it entirely. She felt her lip slide between her teeth. Sebastian's chest, splattered with freckles and a light layer of chestnut hair, was rising and falling too fast. They locked eyes.

"Should we?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't have to.

Should we? she thought. She didn't care.

They fucked, slow and tender and hot and fast, until the orangey glow of dawn kissed the room. When she rolled her head to the side, hair mussed all over her pillow, and saw the tiny light filtering through the window, she laughed to herself, but it was pathetically choked off when Sebastian's nose pushed against her clit in perfect little circles. Her hips arched and she used the handful of wavy hair in her hand to pull him deeper into her. He chuckled into her pussy, and the feeling of his smile pressed against her weeping heat had her riding his face until she eeked out a broken, "Fuck, Seb, baby!"

He shushed her, although his face was still buried inside her, occupied with cleaning every last drop from between her legs.

"Have you got one more for me, darling?" he purred over her fevered panting.

"N-no! I d--!" Sebastian covered her protestations with a sloppy kiss, lips still covered in her, and her body suddenly found the wherewithal to endure one more mind-bending orgasm. She moaned and pressed her chest to his and he laughed again.

His cock slipped in easily this time. The first two, three? Merlin, four? times, his size had been almost too much for her. But a groaned, "Fuck, so tight for me, just like I always dreamed..." was what ultimately pushed her to the edge the first time.

What pushed her to the edge this time were the desperate, rough thrusts he fucked up into her with, and the gleam in his eye as he panted, "You'll be lucky if I don't keep you in this fucking bed all day, shit! I'm...f--fuck, I'm coming!" He grabbed her hips and pumped once, twice, three more times.

"In-inside me," was all she could get out before her body hummed with a high-frequency, white-hot pressure, and she collapsed onto Sebastian's chest. He held her tight while he filled her up, and afterwards did not pull himself out while they caught their breath.

"Hey," Sebastian said suddenly, breaking the hazy quiet that had settled around their intertwined bodies.

"Mm?"

She felt him smile to himself. "Nothing."

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Dad's best friend Miguel

He'll come around for barbecues with your dad and eye you the entire time, the corner of his lip curling into a smirk every time he catches you already watching him.

He'll accidentally brush up against you all day. Holding onto your hip as he walks past you, his cock, half-hard under his jeans, pressing against your ass.

If you're wearing a skirt—which has become the default for you whenever he's around—he'll accidentally run into you in the kitchen and sneak a hand up the back of your skirt to palm at your ass.

He sits beside you when it's time to eat. He can maintain casual conversation with your parents, laughing and even making jokes even though he's already knuckles-deep in your cunt.

You, meanwhile, struggle to keep quiet. With a hand holding onto his wrist, nails digging into his skin, and the other one hastily pushing your food around your plate, it takes every single ounce of effort to not make a sound.

He makes you come on his fingers, a smirk of victory on his lips as he feels your velvet walls clench around him before your arousal gushes out of you.

Then, he removes his fingers. And when your parents' attention turns to you and they ask if you're alright, Miguel chuckles and says, “Had a beer too many, didn't you, princesa?”

Very conveniently, you've got a party that night, and it just so happens to be on the way of Miguel's place. So he offers to drive you.

Fuck the party, Miguel doesn't even have to try to convince you to go to his place instead.

Fuck his place. He finds an open expanse of field and parks his pickup there, headlights off, and pushes the driver's seat as far back as it can go.

You're quick to climb over the center console and onto his lap, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging at it.

Miguel chuckles, a low, deep rumble. “Look at you, princesa. Needed me so bad, did you?”

You whine quietly. “Yeah. So, so bad.” Your lips find his in a daze of heat. You kiss him eagerly, hungrily, lips parting to allow his tongue to slide into your mouth.

His huge hands hold onto your waist, moving down to your hips to grind you against his cock. You whimper and he groans.

He unzips his jeans, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free. The tip is an angry red from how hard he's been all day with no ounce of release. You're already soaked, ready to take him, but he fucks you with his fingers anyway.

“Come for me, princesa,” he says, voice raspy and demanding. “You have to come on my fingers if you want my cock, hm?”

It takes you almost no time to reach your release. You come with a shuddering gasp, moaning in the small space of his truck, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders.

“Good girl,” he says. “My good girl.”

You're still recovering from your orgasm when he gently slides you onto his cock. You mewl, head falling onto his shoulder, body limp.

He doesn't need you to do anything. He lifts you and lowers you on his cock, fucking you rough and deep. Your soaked pussy squelches loudly, overlapping with your whines and moans.

He grunts, eyes fluttering shut, eyebrows furrowing. He bites his lower lip, fingers bruising your hips. Your soft gummy walls have his heart racing, his ears ringing.

“Fuck, princesa,” he gasps. “What would your parents say if they saw you like this? If they knew how much of a slut you are?”

You mewl. It takes just about nothing for you to come, trembling on top of him, thighs squeezing his hips. He keeps you bouncing on his cock,fucking you until he's spilling deep inside you, his load filling your pussy.

He moans lowly, a soft growl escaping his lips. “Fuck. Fuck...”

As the two of you come down from your highs, he glances between your bodies, a smirk growing on his lips at the sight of your arousal smeared all over his hips and lower abdomen.

“Princesa, you look so pretty like that. Full of my cum,” he chuckles, voice still raspy.

You lean your head on his shoulder, body spent, and he holds you close, allowing you to regain your strength. By then, he's already hard once more, and you can feel your own arousal growing again.

“Do you still want to go to that party, princesa?” he asks, kissing your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “My place isn't far...”

You smile at him, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “I never wanted go to the party anyway.”

-----

A/N: Hehehe I know I'm super super super late to this, but I watched spiderman just yesterday and omg I just can't with Miguel 😩😩😩

-----

Blog masterlist

[thelampisaflashlight]

Tying The Knot

[Get your head out of the gutter, this one is actually a wholesome one. RainDrop.] Below the cut.

The day he met Dew, the ghoul had been a stiff breeze away from crumbling away, shaking like a leaf as he tried to remain on his feet.

He'd learn much later the reason; That he'd fought tooth and nail to keep his packmate from tearing him apart in a rage, and that the shiver, that terrible, persistent tremble of his body, was it trying to stay upright.

At the time, Rain had not seen the hand splayed across his back -a sister of sin steadying him-, had not seen the way Terzo had eyed him from across the room, the last remnant of his old pack, barely holding onto life, but alive.

More than anything, the thing Rain noticed about Dew was that he was alive.

Were it not for the raspy hiss of his breathing, it would have been easy to liken him to a corpse.

It had bothered him for so long, the idea that Dew had been forced out of bed to witness not only his summoning, but that of the others, who poured out of the pit, half feral and lost, snapping at anyone who got close, but he hadn't been.

This had been an indulgence.

Dew wanted to see them.

And when coal black eyes gazed upon them all; Rain could feel him staring through them, through him.

It was then that Rain knew Dew was a creature born of spite, of persistence...

He remembers his first approach.

Unfazed by the chatter of teeth or swipe of claws.

With his fingers dipped in a mixture of ash and blood, he aided in anointing them all, and, now, when he sees Dew in his robes during one of Copia's sermons, it's all he can think of.

Dew stands now at the head of the chapel, back to him, long white hair tied back into a careful braid, the one Rain remembers practicing late at night.

It's done in a style from the pit, the kind you have to learn from an elder, impossible to find on youtube, even if similar patterns exist.

His hands twitch, wanting to drag through the strands and tug it loose, to undo all his hard work in a single pull, because if he knew how seeing him like this would make him feel, he'd never had tied those knots in the first place.

Each cross is a promise, woven to remind the wearer they are loved.

Rain watches the little ribbon he tied to secure the braid in place peek out; A bright, joyous red that contrasts heavily against Dew's pale hair.

Bolder than he thought it would be, and now Rain can feel eyes on him from among the pews.

His packmates know they didn't tie that ribbon, and all of them know such an intricate braid could not be done by Dew's hands alone, no matter how skilled he may be with his fingers.

Rain swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

It's...

It's a little too obvious what he's saying with all of this.

He's embarrassed, yes, but more than that...

He's nervous that Dew won't understand the meaning of this gesture.

Dew may be a ghoul like the rest of them, but, much like Swiss -who was born and raised on the surface- he has no memories of the pit.

The soul inhabiting his vessel is a mix.

An even blend of demon and man, but his consciousness solely belongs to the entity that lived topside.

He doesn't understand their culture.

Let alone the niche courting habits of an oceanic subspecies of water ghoul like Rain's.

At best, Dew thinks it's just a cool hairstyle.

At worst, he thinks it's lame or weird, or-

"Rain." a shockingly gentle voice calls to him, and when he looks up...

Dew looks down at him, standing above his seated form, his expression softer than he's seen it in a long time.

"You look terribly sad for a man who's just proposed."

Rain stutters, covering his face with his hands, looking as if he's about to burst.

"...You knew?"

"I guessed based on how much you were sweating while tying my hair back." he replies teasingly, "And Mist told me, ages ago. Not about you doing this, but about the practice in general."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh."

Rain tucks his head between his knees.

"Are you okay??"

"...Gimme a year to recover before you tell me yes or no, I don't think my heart can take it."

Dew grins.

"If I say 'yes' will you die on the spot, or-"

"Can y'all be mushy somewhere else, it's putting me off Papa's sermon about pre-martial sex." Cirrus groans, "Congrats, but also, fuck off!"

"Boo! Boo, Cirrus! Ruining our moment..." Dew sticks his tongue out

"...The sermon was about sex? Was he for or against it??" Aeon frets, "I wasn't listening!"

Everyone turns to the other ghoul, frowning.

"W-What??"

"Do we look like Christians to you-"

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 10-Slurred words

I’m getting lazier and lazier with the art here 😭 but RUSL’S ALIVE dw

~~~~~~

It was quiet, save for muffled voices outside the window and the creaking of the floors near him. The bed he was in was soft, but there was no comfort due to every inch of his body aching terribly, making him involuntarily wince. His eyes opened, and he was staring at a dimly lit room, with a candle on a dresser next to him along with Ammon resting in a chair. He went to lift his head, but pain shot through his neck, and he quickly gave up, groaning in pain.

“Rusl!”

He looked over with his eyes to see Ammon standing over him, a soft smile on his face.

“W-Where ‘re we?” Rusl asked, his words slurring and his voice raspy. Ammon put his hand on his head, keeping him from moving.

“We’re in an inn. Don’t move, you’re still recovering.”

Rusl tried to look around, but his neck felt weak, and Ammon’s hand kept it from moving further. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what happened, which didn’t take long. The memory of him falling backwards off the cliff flowed through his mind. He somehow gained control before he hit the ground, and he was able to position himself so he’d land on his legs instead of his back. Though his legs hurt like the dickens from it. The other memories disturbed him more though; the memory of Kass falling after being hit, the memory of the dead wolves before his very eyes, the memory of swinging his sword and hitting his friend…

“Wh’re is ‘ver’one?” He struggled to ask, looking over at Ammon the best he could.

“Kass and Benji are out in the main room, while Talon went downstairs to get something to eat.” Ammon picked at his bottom lip, staring at the floor. “I… we don’t know where Linebeck and Leon are though. They didn’t come down with you and Kass.”

Rusl felt sick. They weren’t ok, he hurt them. He hit Linebeck and his sword hit Leon!

“We need to find them,” he started, attempting to get up, but the pain in his neck and ribs stopped him.

“Rusl! Stay down, ok?” Ammon scolded, holding him down. “You’re injured!”

“But we need to find them—“

“Rusl!” Ammon sighed and shook his head. “Please, you almost died, just rest and recover, alright?”

“Le’n and L’nebeck could be ‘n danger, I can’t jus’ sit here!”

“I know, but Talon has been neglecting himself to take care of you!”

Rusl stopped resisting and stared at Ammon. “What?”

“He’s been doing everything in his power to make sure that you recover. But he barely knows what he’s doing and he’s been overwhelmed. I don’t think he’s slept once these past couple of days looking after you and…” Ammon sighed again, letting go of Rusl. “Please. Just…. Rest. For his sake.”

Rusl frowned, feeling guilty suddenly. Talon was going through all that for him? Spirits, that man.

“Alright,” he sighed, attempting to get comfortable. It pained him, knowing that his own injury was somehow hurting the people that he cared about. Goddesses, it didn’t matter what he did, he was always hurting the people he loved.

Ammon patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you for now. Hopefully news of you being awake will help Talon feel better.”

“Th’nk you, ‘mmon,” he said with a smile. The man began to rummage through his pack, and he pulled out a bottle with a red liquid.

“You should drink this while you’re awake. It’ll speed up your recovery.”

Rusl smiled as if to nod, his neck hurting too much to move it, and Ammon pulled out a spoon to make taking the potion easier for him. It was humiliating being spoon fed when he could barely move, but Rusl quickly felt the pain alleviate in his body as he drank the potion. Soon, his neck felt good enough for him to be able to move it, and he was able to finish the potion.

“Great. You already had two thanks to Lonni, so hopefully recovery will be easy going from here on out,” Ammon commented, wiping down the spoon and bottle. Rusl let out a sigh, looking around him.

“You said we’re in an inn?” He asked, speaking feeling much easier for him now that he was healed up a bit.

“Yeah… Um… Lonni and Agus couldn’t let us stay any longer,” Ammon quickly said, looking around nervously. Rusl sighed, knowing the real reason. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about them anymore. At least he was finally in a bed again.

“Well, I appreciate y’all lookin’ out for me,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling tired. Ammon smiled and rested his hand on his shoulder.

“Of course, I know you’d do the same for us. Now get some rest, you’re going to be here for a while.”

[courtforshort15]

Fever Dream

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN Reader

Word Count: 3,100

Summary: You feel like utter death. Good thing you have a boyfriend whose mother-hen tendencies mean he’s the best at taking care of you.

Trigger warnings: None. Just my self-indulgent imagination of Matt taking care of me while I’m sick.

Masterlist

The sneeze you let out at seven in the morning is almost embarrassingly loud.

It wracks your entire body, the force of it causing you to jerk in your bed, and you barely have time to cover your nose with a tissue. Cringing, you blow your nose before tossing the tissue into the trashcan you’ve moved next to your bed, no longer having the energy to get up and walk each individual one over. 

The feeling of sick came on so unexpectedly and savagely that you didn’t have time to make a grocery trip to grab any medicine, and you were currently stuck using almost-expired Benadryl for the congestion and a nearly empty bottle of ibuprofen for your headache and sore throat. 

Seriously, you were mostly fine last night. Maybe a little stuffy, but nothing close to this. 

With a loud groan, you call your boss on her cell phone to let her know that you won’t be in today, and the raspy tone in your voice paired with the sound of a stuffy nose was enough for her to tell you to take the rest of the week off. 

“No, really, please don’t come in,” she tells you, and you can practically feel the way she’s shuddering on the other side of the line. You’ve worked with her long enough to know she’s a major germaphobe, and she’d rather miss a soft deadline by a day or two than have you anywhere near her. You’re not above using that to your advantage, and have done so in the past, especially in instances when you need an excuse to stay with Matt when he’s recovering from a night that’s rougher than usual. 

“I am willing to bribe you to make sure you stay home. I will send you all the soup you need if you just stay away.”

“You got it boss lady,” you somehow manage to croak out, cringing at both the pain and the way you sound. “I’ll see you Monday.” With a sigh, you hang up with her, grateful for a large balance of PTO, and fully planning on taking her up on the soup once you have an appetite. She’ll splurge on good stuff, too.

Matt is next. Instead of calling him, you send him a quick text, knowing he’s likely already at the courthouse for the morning, and you’re unwilling to interrupt him at work. He’s less likely to check a message than take a phone call, for obvious reasons, so it's easier to escape the laser focus of his concern for just a few extra hours. Typing out the message, you let him know you’re not feeling well and unable to meet him for lunch, as you usually do on Wednesdays. Knowing him, he’ll call you the second he’s on recess, and will likely end up swinging by this evening anyway.

With a loud exhale that causes your throat to burn and offers an abrupt coughing fit, you lay back down against the pillows, and pass out.

---------

You wake up to the sound of someone pounding on your door, and it startles you enough that you nearly roll out of bed. 

It takes you a few moments to get your bearings, grimacing at the way your body feels worse than when you’d fallen asleep, and you mentally curse the person interrupting your rest. It’s probably your obnoxious landlord who finds random excuses to check-in on you, much to your annoyance and Matt’s suspicion, but the man is harmless, guilty of nothing other than using far too much cologne to cover up the stale smell of body odor and of cigarettes. 

You’d roll your eyes if the idea of the simple motion didn’t sound so painful. 

If you weren’t already certain about having been knocked on your ass by the flu, specifically, there’s no doubt in your mind now. A throbbing headache. A throat that feels like it was being torn apart with glass. Congestion. It was all there, and all you want to do is pass out until you feel better.

The pounding on the door continues, combined with an extremely muffled voice, and deciding your body is too sore and too sick to get up, you roll back over in bed, burying your face under a pillow to drown out the noise. Another coughing fit hits you unexpectedly, and your body spasms with the force of your lungs revolting against you. When you’re done, you vaguely pick up on the silence when the pounding abruptly stops, and you sigh, grateful for the quiet once more.

Neil has given up, it seems, but you’re still bitter that your sleep has been interrupted, and the idea of sending the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to rattle his fire escape at 1am has never felt so appealing.

You’re just about to drift off into sleep again when, not even five minutes later, the sound of your window being opened from the outside shatters the blessed silence once more.

…oh. 

Guess that answers the question of who had been pounding on your door. You mentally apologize to Neil.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is quiet as he steps into your room, and you don’t need eyes to know the way he’s probably wrinkling his nose at the smell of sickness that’s wafting inside the cramped space. His sense of smell is so sensitive, and you definitely don’t envy him for it. You can only imagine how your sweat-damp skin smells, or the mouth that had only experienced half of the recommended amount of teeth brushing this morning, too weak to remain standing for long.

Nose wrinkling, you cringe on his behalf.

You feel him settle on the edge of your bed behind you, hand immediately reaching out to rub your back, and your body can’t help but instinctively arch into his touch, despite the fact that you feel like death. He trails his fingers up to the back of your neck, the touch soothing and offering comfort in a way only he can. His skin on yours is the most natural feeling in the world. 

“Not feeling well, sweetheart?”

You shake your head miserably, a full body shiver shaking you all the way down to your toes, before coughing into your pillow, too sick to bother covering your mouth and trusting the pillowcase to stop the spray.

Gross.

Matt’s hand gently pulls you over with a light hand on your shoulder until you’re laying on your back, and he makes sure to adjust the blankets around you so that no warmth seeps out from underneath the covers. Your eyes remain tightly shut, unwilling to subject yourself to the bright light of your bedroom. Your head is pounding, borderline migraine material, and even the thought of sunshine makes it throb. “Just a cold?”

Shaking your head again, you open your mouth to answer. “I think it’s the flu.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your throat too sore to get much else out. He makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. If there’s anyone who understands the feeling of your entire body being sore and in pain, it’s him.

The man, even while he runs himself ragged, hardly ever gets sick. He averages four hours of sleep a night, ends his evenings with grazes and cuts that are likely full of all the various types of bacteria known to man, drinks way less water than he should, and he still remains relatively healthy.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though, you think wryly. He’d either be the worst case of man-flu you’ve ever seen, or he would end up in a ditch somewhere, out patrolling while delirious with a fever. Your man is a hot mess on a good day, and you can’t imagine adding sickness to the foray.

You feel him lay his hand softly on your forehead, and you shudder at how cold it feels in comparison to your warm skin. Your fever must have returned with a vengeance, and you acknowledge it with a barely restrained groan. 

“You feel pretty warm,” he tells you, his voice quiet and one of concern. You appreciate that he’s using a gentle tone that is kind on your ears, not wanting to add anything loud and overwhelming less it makes the headache worse. “Have you taken anything?”

“Ibuprofen when I woke up.” Finally opening your eyes, you blearily watch as he frowns, red lips tilted down at the corners. His hand is still on your forehead, but he moves it to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“When did you wake up?”

“Seven, I think.”

He sighs, moving his hand so that it rests on your cheek. “Sweetheart, that was almost six hours ago. Have you been asleep this whole time?”

“I think so,” you whisper, watching as he shrugs his suit jacket off. He tosses it on the chair that’s in the corner of the room, face still tilted towards yours. You always seem to be his sole focus when he’s around you, and it never fails to make your heart stutter. “I fell asleep after I texted you.”

Matt leans over to place his glasses on your bedside table before he returns back to you, his face one of confusion, and his eyes looking more hazel than normal in the sunlight as they roam blindly over your form. “You didn’t text me.”

Your own eyes briefly flutter close again, even as hard as you try to keep them open. You reach up and pull his hand away from your face so that you can lace your fingers with his. His hand squeezes yours gently. “Yeah I did. I told you I wasn’t going to make lunch today.”

“I didn’t get a text from you,” he reiterates with a calm shake of his head. “I’ve been calling you for the past hour when you didn’t show up.”

“But I–” Eyes opening again, you move to sit up, but he pushes you gently back down. Your neck and shoulders immediately relax back into your pillow with a sigh. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Matt grabs your phone from where it had apparently been resting by your knee and places it into your outstretched hand without a word. His hand goes back to your cheek so that can resume rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone, and it takes great effort to not fall back to sleep and close your eyes again. Fingers weak with sickness, you press in your fingerprint to unlock your phone, noticing immediately the several calls, texts and voicemails, most of them from him but a few from Karen, too. You grimace at the obvious display of his concern, knowing the level of anxiety that had likely popped up when you didn't answer any of the calls.

No wonder he had been pounding on your door. 

You open up your chat with him, wincing when you see what had happened. “I never hit send,” you tell him with a whisper, throat still rebelling against the words forcing themselves out of your throat. “I’m sorry, Matt. I really did mean to text you. I was pretty out of it.”

He leans down and presses a kiss into your forehead. His stubble briefly rasps against your skin, and you can’t help but want to lean into it, even while the texture feels scratchy on skin that seems to be more sensitive than usual. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You snort softly, unable to help yourself. “If you call feeling like I’m dying okay, then sure. I’m okay.”

Matt makes another sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, hand still softly rubbing your cheek. You shift in your bed, trying to burrow yourself further into the covers. He pulls the blankets tighter around you, helping them settle up around your neck. “I’m going to grab Tylenol to help bring your fever down.”

You cringe, and Matt’s brow furrows, indicating he’s caught onto the brief twitch of your face. “I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any Tylenol?”

You cough again, this time covering your mouth to avoid coughing in his face. He doesn’t shift away from you as you do, just continues to keep his face near yours so that you don’t have to strain your voice to speak to him. “No,” you manage to rasp out when you’re done. “I’m out.”

He groans suddenly. “I depleted your stash last week, didn’t I?”

The same memory that had apparently hit him hits you a second later, the image of him holding a bloody rag to his shoulder that had taken a heavy hit flitting through your head briefly. You’d given him the last two tablets in the bottle as his lips twisted into a wry grin, promising to buy you a new bottle. You’d asked him to promise to avoid getting hit so frequently instead, the grin on your face just as dry and fond.  “I– yeah, I think so.”

“I’m sorry, love. I meant to grab more for you.”

You twist your head to cover another cough. “It’s fine, I forgot about grabbing some, too.”

“Do you have Ibuprofen?” he asks as he runs a hand through his hair, still looking somewhat frustrated at himself as he shifts slightly on your bed.

“Not much, but yeah,” you say with a wince. “That bottle’s almost empty, too.”

“How about any cold medicine? Decongestants? Something for your cough?”

“No,” you reply with another grimace. To his credit, he doesn’t twist his face into the disbelief he’s surely feeling, both at himself and at you. His eye twitches, though.

“How are you out of that, too?”

“Judgmental, much?” you ask with a grin that’s far too humorous for the situation and the way everything seems to hurt, including the muscles in your face. “I wasn’t exactly planning to get this sick.”

“You should have–”

“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Matthew.”

He sighs, hand darting up to run a quick hand down his face, attempting to hide a smile that relays a level of exasperation. “What do you have, then?”

“Just Benadryl…that’s almost expired.”

Matt lets loose another loud exhale and slowly lifts his head to face the ceiling as if sarcastically thanking the universe for letting him fall for someone who seems to be so bad at taking care of themselves. You’d laugh if it wouldn’t lead to a loud coughing fit. 

Pot. Kettle.

“Okay, I’m going to call Karen to see if she can bring some stuff by.”

“I don't–”

He's shaking his head before you even finish your objection. “Sweetheart, you’re so congested you can’t breathe out of your nose, and you've got a 101 degree fever. You need to take something," he tells you, and you know there’s no arguing against this man once he’s set his mind to something.

“How would you know my fever is that high?” Matt gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “Okay, stupid question.”

“Just close your eyes,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “I’m going to bring you a glass of water and some Ibuprofen, and call Karen to see if she can bring anything over.”

You nod miserably, energy suddenly draining and turning you back into a whimpering mess. He leaves the room, kicking his shoes off in the process, and you pick up your phone again once he’s out of sight, a wince twitching on your face at the notification of thirty emails that have popped up in your inbox. You open the app, scrolling down through the messages with a sigh.

“You better not be checking your email right now,” Matt’s voice calls out to you from the kitchen suddenly, and you almost drop your phone onto your face in surprise.

He knows you too well.

“I’m not,” you say as loudly as you can, which is still minimal, but you know he can hear you regardless, so you’re not too concerned. You roll over to place your phone back onto your bedside table with a loud sigh, wrist and arm feeling entirely too weak as it reaches out.

“Liar," is all he responds with, before his voice quiets down again. There’s a brief moment of silence before you pick up on the soft murmur of his voice, no doubt on the phone with Karen. The sound of your cabinet being opened and the faucet being turned on hits your ears, and you sigh at the domesticity of it all. Things of yours have been slowly migrating to his apartment in preparation of the move that’s happening in a month’s time, but there’s just something about him knowing your apartment like the back of his hand and feeling comfortable in a space that’s been solely yours for the past two years.

A few minutes later, he’s walking back into your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand, your dwindling bottle of painkillers in the other, mouth turned up in a soft, soothing smile. He helps you sit up, his arm gently snaking around your shoulders to support you, and encourages you to drink the water and toss back the pills as lips ghost across your forehead.

Even swallowing something cold makes your throat burn on the way down, and you groan in pain. 

He helps you lay back down, easing you backwards and holding your weight so that you don’t just flop back onto the pillows. He pulls his arm out from underneath you and reaches out to set the glass onto your night table as he moves to stand up. You close your eyes again against the light of your room, and you hear the subtle sound of a belt being unbuckled and fabric hitting the chair in the corner. 

Matt lifts up the covers and slides in beside you, his bare skin pressing up against yours as he nudges you onto your side so that he can cradle you from behind. Despite the brief chill, he quickly becomes a furnace pressed against you, and you can’t help the quiet moan that sneaks past chapped lips at the heat you hadn’t known you’d been needing.

“You’ll get sick,” you protest weakly as you settle into his chest, almost immediately soothed by the feeling of his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispers into your ear before leaning over you to kiss your cheek, settling back down behind you when he’s done, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. “Just go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Despite the sickness ravaging your body, or maybe because of it, you slip back into an easy sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest behind you settling you the way it always does. Your head is pounding, your whole body aches, and you can’t breathe through your nose, but everything feels better when he’s holding you.

[wishitweresummer]

Unstoppable

Word count: 1997

George laughed softly at his two favorite idiots, that bittersweet feeling washing over him again. An ocean away…but not for long…right?

“Dream, shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!”, Sapnap got louder and louder as he tried to drown Dream out to no avail.

“-and he cried! I made him call me daddy, George!”, he wheezed. It sounded like he was shaking his head. “And he did!!”.

“Dream!!! I’m going to come over there and kick your ass!!!”

“If you come over here I’m going to tickle you again.”, Dream recovered quickly from his laughing fit to purr the threat into his mic.

“SHUT UP!!!”.

George put his chin in his hand and balanced it on the desk, grinning at Sapnap’s red face. At the sound of Dream starting up again, he slid his eyes over to the black screen and familiar icon in the middle.

Dream and Sapnap had lived together for a few weeks now. As soon as George got his visa he could join the fun.

‘Soon.’, he thought.

“I can’t wait for you to get here George. You can help me take him down.”.

“Soon!”, he chirped. It really was more sweet than bitter. Sapnap huffed like a child and crossed his arms, sinking back into his gaming chair. George knew any other time he would see Sapnap fling insults or even run out of the room to go confront Dream in person. But now, he stayed put with the threat of tickles. “I’m actually not ticklish, so I’d be pretty useful as an ally.”.

“No way!”.

“No shot!”. The exclamations were yelled in sync, making George laugh.

And with that, one more thing added to the list of things they needed to do as soon as George got to Florida.

-Dream face reveal

-Disney

-Pick out another furry friend for Patches together

-Sapnap’s first legal drink

-Tickle fight

~•~

The next time tickling is brought up, it’s weeks later and just George and Sapnap in their comfy vc.

“He’s really ticklish. If I could just get him pinned he would be fucked, dude.”, Sapnap said to his bedroom ceiling.

“Is he really that big?”, George asked quietly. Sapnap scoffed, shaking his head in amusement at the strange question.

“Well yeah, but you’ve seen like, his body. Bro’s six two.”.

“Shortnap.”, he quipped quickly, giggling.

“Laugh it up George. I actually workout! What do you think is going to happen to you?”.

“Oh, well I’m not ticklish.”.

“Everybody is ticklish.”.

“No, not everybody. It just doesn’t do anything to me.”.

Sapnap grinned. Somehow, George knows.

Sapnap thought back to the last time he heard George lose his shit. That insane cackling in person was deafening.

“I wish I had tickled you when I visited you in England.”.

“I’m not ticklish! Really!”.

~•~

Sapnap’s scream clipped the mic and George squirmed in his chair a little, wishing Dream would turn on his camera.

They had all been watching a new horror movie together when George had gotten a message.

Sap: I’m gonna scare the glizz out of Dream

And scare he had. Dream had been so enthralled in the movie he hadn’t noticed Sapnap slip out of frame. After a minute;

Startled yelp. Sapnap’s mean laughter. A scuffle. A chair crashing to the floor. Begging. A squeal. Raspy laughter. Pleads for mercy. Screaming when they were ignored. Dream’s cocky teases. Hysterical laughter. Apologies. More laughter.

Man…George wished he was there actually. He could help Dream punish Sapnap. Or help Sapnap put Dream in his place. The horror movie faded out of his interest entirely as he listened to his two best friends laugh. Dream’s familiar cry rang out. Maybe Sapnap had got some ground in the fight? He grinned and stared at the little Dream icon as the faceless man’s laughter boomed. He tried his best to picture in his head what was happening, but the image of Dream kept blurring into nothingness.

George jumped at another one of Sapnap’s piercing screams.

“George, help!!!”, he wailed. His laughter had a helpless edge to it and George wondered if Dream had gotten him pinned.

“I’ll be able to soon!”. But, they couldn’t hear him when he was so far away. “Soon.”.

~•~

The amount of tickling in the Dream House seemed to ramp up, to George’s ambivalence. He found himself hyperfocusing on it a bit. The other two were easy to egg on. Sapnap had a competitive streak and the fact that he hadn’t gotten the best of Dream in a tickle fight yet seemed to bug him.

“Who’s more ticklish?”, he asked one day over a game of Bedwars.

“Dream.”.

“Sapnap.”, they answered at the same time. George laughed.

~•~

Eventually, the future came hurtling in. A visa was granted. Suitcases were packed. A mask was removed.

And George came home.

~•~

It was a whirlwind of excitement; that first day. Dream and George were having a bit of trouble separating, too excited to be in person.

Dream giggled, standing in the doorway. He had been trying to leave for ten minutes, but just kept hovering and egging on the conversation. George was trying to scowl at him from the floor, but failing. The giddy energy of finally being with his best friends was crawling across his skin. He had to hold himself back from jumping up to touch Dream’s face. It was so real. He stood tall in the doorway, nearly touching the top with his curls.

George forced himself to look back down at the clothes he was sorting through. His suitcases were all open and stuff was strewn around the room. He thought back to when he had moved into his first apartment alone. The feelings mixed into the memories were different. He had been happy, for sure. But not like this. This wasn’t moving out, this was more like coming home. He knew it was cliche and sappy…but it was true.

Dream almost made it out of the room, but Sapnap appeared and wedged his own body into the doorframe so he could smoosh up to Dream. They both giggled as they shoved each other painfully against the wood. George desperately fought to not stare at them with all the fondness in the world.

“Gogy.”, Sapnap coo’ed, popping through the door to stumble towards George and fall to his knees next to him. George giggled.

“Sappy.”, he reached out and pushed gently against the younger’s shoulder. He had been struggling all day to keep his hands to himself now that his best friends were in reaching distance.

Dream took Sapnap’s entrance as his go ahead to join George on the floor again. Both had stated they were going to leave him alone to sort through his bags and start unpacking. George was glad they were failing to leave. He kind of hoped he was never alone again.

“Go away!”, he laughed and shoved at both of them.

~•~

George couldn’t help the giggles spilling from his lips as Dream cornered him in the living room. He knew he wasn’t ticklish, but Dream’s size and confidence was lighting his nerves on fire.

“Get him, Dream!”, Sapnap called from the couch.

“You said we would team up against him!”, George squeaked out. He gasped as his back found the wall.

Dream’s large hands were suddenly on his waist and he shrieked as he was twisted down to the ground.

“Dream!”, he cried, flustered.

He jumped a little as Dream went to work squeezing up his sides and shaking his fingertips into his rib cage. George slowly calmed down, just observing so he would know exactly what the other thought would tickle him.

“No shot. You have to be ticklish somewhere!”, Dream shook his head in disbelief and poked quickly into George’s stomach.

“Holy shit.”, Sapnap muttered, hanging over the back of the couch to watch him.

“Damn…okay…here?”, Dream asked as he reached back and grabbed George’s thigh. He squeezed at the muscle above his knee. George only lifted himself up on his elbows and gave Dream a little smile.

“Sorry.”, he shrugged. “Alright, my turn now.”, he said quickly and grabbed Dream’s sides before he could react. The boy squawked and almost completely collapsed against him.

George used the element of surprise and shoved himself up into Dream’s body. With a little force, he was able to flip their positions so he was on top. Sapnap cheered.

He attacked Dream’s ribcage like he had tried only a minute earlier; pressing all of his fingertips in lightly and shaking them roughly against the bones. Dream screamed. George and Sapnap both laughed as Dream turned into a squirming mess.

“What the fuck?!”, he cried. His hands shoved roughly against George’s chest, but George invaded his space again quickly and poked rapid fire into his stomach like he had done earlier. Dream’s entire body convulsed suddenly and he squealed. “Okay!!”.

“You’re so ticklish!”, George grinned. He reached back and latched onto Dream’s thigh. The boy bucked violently and shrieked with laughter. George laughed and he struggled to stay on. “Holy shit!”.

“You’re meme’ing him.”, Sapnap giggled.

“Fuck you!!”, Dream squeaked.

Sapnap grinned as he watched Dream completely fall to pieces under the smaller boy. It was so gratifying after being tickled to death by him a million times since they moved in together. Everytime Dream got a hold of George’s hand or started to shove him off, he squealed with helpless laughter and crumbled back to the floor from a new ticklish attack.

Just as Sapnap was starting to think it was the best day ever, George stood and set his sights on him.

“Oh shit.”, he muttered before scrambling to his feet. Dream was nothing but a giggly puddle as George left him to dart after Sapnap.

Before he could reach the door, a weight hit his back and sent both boys tumbling painfully across the floor. They both giggled hysterically as they wrestled. Sapnap’s giggles pitched up in panic as he blocked George’s playful fingers again and again.

“Get away, you psycho!”, he squeaked. A sneaky hand was shoved into his armpit and he crumbled. He gasped out harshly before bursting into laughter. The touch was mean right away. It made sense, knowing George’s merciless nature. It just sucked being the victim of it.

“Squeaky.”, George smirked and dropped both his hands down to Sapnap’s sides. His face burned as helpless laughter bubbled out of him against his will.

Sapnap cursed himself for not running earlier. George had just taken down Dream! There was no escaping the onslaught of tickles. He screamed in protest as devious hands shoved up into his shirt and grabbed at his bare sides.

“Okay, please!”, he pleaded, throwing his ego out the window to maybe get George to stop.

“Are you begging me right now, Stinknap?”.

“Yes! Yes, please! No more!”, he cried through his laughter. His torso was jumping and shaking at the electric touch directly into his muscles. He tugged at George’s arms and slipped into hysterical laughter. He kicked against the floor helplessly. He was so screwed. George was grinning like a demon as he dug his fingers expertly into his sides. Sapnap squealed. “Please!”.

Suddenly, George was lifted off of him. George yelped and burst into giggles as Dream held him up.

“Lemme at ‘im!”, he yelled as he kicked in the air and made grabby hands at Sapnap. They all laughed at the absolutely ridiculous situation.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this.”, Sapnap rubbed at his red face and tried to shake off his giggles. His body still buzzed from George’s rough touch.

“I told you guys I wasn’t ticklish!”, George laughed as he was placed back down on his feet.

~•~

George actually not being ticklish was just one of the many new things they learned about each other by living together. It was never a dull moment in the house and George thought he might never be bored again.

[thr-333]

I just realized. I don't think I've seen anything about April in OaaHF. Where is she? What does she do in the resistence? How aware is she of Leon's situation?

Set while Leon is recovering from his first facial scar:

“No, no way!”

Leon groaned as the yell woke him, sound getting choked out by the bandages wrapped tight around his neck. Constricting his airway making it so he could never get a full breath, was always light headed. Although that could be the bloodloss.

“We need his portals, its not a-”

“I don’t care if it’s a transport mission, I don’t care if he’s at the very back line, you are not getting him out of that bed,”

Leon scrunched up his face so he wouldn’t have to deal with the light of day. Or the light of med bay. He wanted to go back to sleep and it wasn’t even the yelling that was stopping him. Pain flared along his face and shoulder in tandem with his heartbeat. Bandages pulled meticulously tight making every throb worse.

“It’s not an active mission, I’ve mapped out the points all Kraang will be avoided-”

“Then you do it!”

That voice, Leon knew it even past the haze pain. Probably helped that there were no painkillers available to keep him floaty. He sighed his big sisters voice was always soothing, well when she wasn’t yelling at him. Although he supposed she technically was.

“Ape’s I’m needed here,” Leo reasoned, his voice was deep and raspy. Huh Leon wondered if his voice sounded closer to it now, “I can’t up and leave the resistance without aleader for a minor mission,”

“So you admit it’s a minor mission!” April accused, Leon tried to open his eyes. The best he could make out was a couple of blurry figures until the light forced him to shut them.

“Minor but needed, lives are at stake here April,”

“His life is at stake!” Leon opened his mouth, but his throat was raw and the skin of his cheek pulled weirdly threatening to make him throw up if he tried. He tried anyway, why should be matter? “If he moves that wound, the wound you gave him is going to tear right open, he won’t survive that a second time,”

“April it was an accident, my hand slipped,” 

His future self was right of course. After all he had been the one to sacrifice his scarf to keep as much blood inside Leon’s body as possible. He had literally held Leon’s life in his hands. You didn’t do that for a person you were actually trying to kill… no matter how much it looked lik you wanted to seconds before.

That was fine. It was an accident. Leon shouldn’t have baited him.

“Bullshit, also I don’t give a crap, he’s not ready for field work!”

“The doctor cleared him,”

“Which you know they shouldn’t have!” April screeched, ugh Leon wished she wouldn’t, “Come on Leo you're a medic, just look at him!”

There was silence. Leon held still pretending to be asleep. Which was easy as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Only the jabs of pain and his sister keeping him present.

“It’s between him and them,”

“Him, everytime, my little brother should come first everytime,” Leon’s heart didn’t know if it should skip a beat or clench. It was the answer he wanted to hear- but one he was completely undeserving of.

“I can’t play favorites,”

“Plaaeesseee,” The pure amount of sarcasm poured into the tone would have shot three men dead, “Is that why Mikey’s locked up in the underground bunker within an underground bunker, deep fried and finished with magic?”

“April-”

“Or how about Donnie’s lab, which is enforced with thirty percent of our titanium stores?” Leo would have rolled his eyes if they wouldn't just keep rolling back into his head. Obviously it wasn’t a matter of favoritism, his brothers were simply more important than him, “And how me and Cassie keep getting shortlisted missions? Junior hasn’t left your side in months and you haven't left this safehold in a year? Yet guess who’s going on missions every other week?”

“It’s all a matter of circumstance,” Leo’s voice took on a cold and harsh tone, “I’m trying to keep everyone alive for the sak-”

“Everyone but Leon,” 

She called him Leon… when had he become Leon? When has he started solely thinking of himself as Leon? Why was his futureself exclusively Leo? The thoughts were to hard to capture, slipping through his hands like sand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to dwell on them anyway.

“Well sucks for you but I care about keeping him alive, even if you don’t,” 

That wasn’t fair, he cared about Leon he did, as much as he could. Leon didn’t make it easy, after… after everything he caused. He couldn’t blame his future self for being a bit weird. He cared where it counted. Leon would’ve been dead three times over now if he didn’t.

“This mission is needed-”

“I’ll go then,”

No, April

“April, No,”

“If it’s so important you need to drag him out of bed and risk reopening the slice you put in his neck then it’s important enough for I, commander O’Neil to take over,”

“You’re not who you are in the future, you’re not Commander O’Neil,”

“And I never will be if you keep coddling,” April spat, “Besides I don’t care about being a commander right now, I care about being a sister, so it’s either I take the mission or you cancel it,”

The silence stretched on. Leon grasped onto his threads of consciousness. Purposely twitching his shoulder to get the fiery pain to keep him awake. It was amazing how something could fill him with so much dread yet he still selfishly felt hope that they would go through with it. Because he was selfish, rather stay hidden away in bed in a back room of the stronghold while his big sister fronted all the danger.

“Fine,” Relief and dread, unfortunately not in equal measure, “You come back alive understand?”

“Oh darn, there go my plans,” April tossed back, a shade closer to her usual teasing tone but still tense.

Leo didn’t answer. Because he was Leo, even in Leon’s own mind. But the older turtle huffed. Leon listened to his footsteps fade as Aprils got closer. The dip in his bed bit him to open his eyes.

“Heya blue, you awake?” April’s hand gently brushed his forehead, Leon cringed as he opened his eyes, “How’re you doing?”

He couldn’t answer, not really. So he leaned into her palm. Flinching as the small movement pulled on his wound from neck to cheek. He hissed through the pain. Tight bandages around his throat feeling suffocating as he would have struggled to breath even without them.

“Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check in,” The details of Aprils face were hard to make out pain blurring them out, “I’m going away for a mission,”

“Do… t,” Leon tried to sound out, it didn’t come anywhere close, but hey look at that: His voice was raspy.

“Don’t worry about me, it’s my job to worry about you,” She pat his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles under his eye, “Seriously, please, it’s ok to care about yourself, you should, once in a whil- actually all the time,”

Leon shook his head imperceptibly. She was wrong. He had done that, over and over again. Each time they lost so much. He couldn’t, not anymore. Why couldn’t she understand that? 

Leo understood that. He knew what it was like to sit with that guilt, that self hate. He knew how to work for others to ease that feeling even a little bit. As losses stacked everyday and crushed him under their weight.

“I bet your thinking something stupid right now,” April pinched his opposite cheek, the unscarred one that showed off his brilliant red stripe, “I wish you were better so I could beat my love into your skull, but we’ll have to save that for when I get back,”

Leon plucked up the strength to use his right arm. Greaspoing Aprils loosely. He needed to get his point across, even without words, he had to.

“I will be alright, you rest up,” April moved from his grasp to instead thread their fingers together, “I’m your big sister, I’m always going to look out for you, even if I have to do that by not being here,”

No, no that wasn’t what he meant. Leo jerked to grab her again. White hot flares shot through his shoulder. Fuck, wrong arm. Darkness clawed at the edge of his vision, plusing in time with the pain searing through him.

“You’re so………. Don’t let anyone convince you…..” April's voice faded in and out, “ We have always…….. None of this………… alright Leon?”

Leon, that was the last word he caught before his world faded to black. The last thing he heard his sister say. 

When he woke up.

She was gone.

[sergeantsporks]

Dadrius Week 2024 Day 3: Secrets

Darius had made pancakes for breakfast.

This immediately set off every warning bell in Hunter’s mind, cutting through the lingering fog of sleep. Pancakes were for special occasions. Pancakes were for first and last days of school and flyer derby match days. Pancakes were for holidays and birthdays.

Pancakes were not for ordinary Tuesdays. Ordinary Tuesdays were days when Hunter poured himself a bowl of Kraken Krisps, or, if he was feeling special, made toast.

Don’t jump to conclusions, he told himself. They were probably just either a ���thank you for saving me’ breakfast or a ‘sorry I tore open your arm’ breakfast. They probably meant nothing. Still, Hunter squinted accusingly at Darius.

"What’s wrong?” he demanded. His throat still hurt from getting half strangled yesterday, and his voice came out raspy, but at least talking was possible.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong?”

“Pancakes.” Hunter squinted at Darius. He still had on his silk sleeping cap, too—it was too late in the day for this. Hunter could recall on one hand the number of times he’d seen Darius emerge from his room not fully prepped and ready for the day. “And why are you still wearing your bonnet?”

“Hm?” Darius reached up casually—too casually, like he was pretending he’d quite forgotten it was there—to touch the cap. “Oh, I suppose I just wasn’t quite up for getting ready. Strange day yesterday and all.”

“Why pancakes?”

“Goodness, can’t I do something nice? I did maul you yesterday.”

He said it flippantly enough, but Hunter noted the way his eyes didn’t quite hold that same carefree attitude, instead flickering with guilt.

“Hm.”

Maybe it was just an apology breakfast. He could at least eat it before he grilled Darius any further. He took it slow. Darius had cooked these perfectly—Hunter could cut through them even without a knife. Which was good, since he couldn’t exactly hold a fork and knife at the same time right now.

Darius leaned back in his seat. “So, Hunter.”

There it was. He’d known it.

“Yesterday was…”

“A lot,” Hunter supplied. Why wouldn’t Darius look him in the eye?

“Yes, a lot.” Darius took a deep breath. “And I was thinking, that while you recover… here might not be the best place for you to stay.”

“What?” Hunter shook his head, ignoring the twinge of pain from his neck. “Is this because I skipped school? I’m sorry, I thought I’d be back in ti—”

“No. Hunter, this isn’t your fault. It isn’t because of anything you’ve done. I just think, for your recovery, it would be better if you stayed with Edalyn and Luz.”

“Wha—but—” Hunter sputtered, searching frantically for any reason to stop him. “You think it would be better for my recovery to stay with Hooty? That’ll be—it’ll be ten times more distressing. Obviously, I’ll need peace and quiet to heal, which won’t happen if I’m—”

“This isn’t up for debate. Luz is coming to get you at the end of her school day. You will go with her and stay at the owl house at least until your next healer’s appointment. Then we will reevaluate.”

“You mean you’ll reevaluate,” Hunter grumbled, “What happened to letting me make my own choices?”

Darius’ nostrils flared, but his body remained perfectly still and calm. “This one isn’t your choice to begin with. It’s mine. I think it will be better for you if you are not around me right now, and since I don’t want to leave you on your own, you must go to Eda’s. See, this is good, because otherwise, I’d go check into a hotel to keep away from you, and you’d be left all alone.”

“Better for me if—Darius, I’m not scared of you after yesterday! I know better than anyone else what possession can make you do—I know it wasn’t your fault.” Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true—an uneasy anxiety settled around Hunter if he didn’t keep his mind busy, especially when he looked at Darius. But he knew how he wanted to feel, never mind the lingering paranoia. “You don’t have to trade me off for some kind of—of peace of mind you think I’ll have!”

“Well, perhaps it is for my peace of mind.” Darius stood up, taking his plate to the sink. “I’m not discussing this anymore. I have an appointment—I’ll be back before Luz gets here. Please. Be ready to go.”

Darius stalked upstairs, leaving Hunter with a sour taste in his mouth. Why wouldn’t Darius listen to him? It was like he didn’t trust him to make good decisions, like he didn’t think Hunter was capable, like… like…

Like how he’d treated Hunter in the coven.

Well, not completely. Hunter could say that much—now, Darius brushing him aside ran with an undercurrent of caring, of concern for Hunter’s well-being. But still.

Darius had treated him like that, in part, because he’d been hiding his rebellion. He’d pushed away anyone who might be a threat to his cause, anyone who might discover his dangerous secret. He’d made himself unlikable, a distant, haughty, self-absorbed figure who couldn’t be relied on. Why was he doing that now? What secret was he protecting this time?

Xxx

Darius took a deep breath, pulling his sleeping bonnet off.

His hair still wouldn’t take its abomination shape.

In fact, every attempt to use magic had run him into a frightening wall—it was the same wall he’d felt when he’d first gotten his coven sigil. He could feel the magic blocked off, locked away behind a gate he couldn’t break. But now, now it was blocking off his abomination magic instead of the other eight.

Darius tossed the sleeping cap to the dresser, pulling his locs back into a ponytail. The bonnet had aroused suspicion, he knew that, but his hair would have drawn more. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was hiding his current lack of magic from Hunter, but it felt important. Some sense in the back of his mind told him that if Hunter found out, it would mean danger. For him or for Hunter, he couldn’t say, but it was definitely linked to that gem and to that little voice in his head that had told him to kill Hunter.

Still, Darius was starting to become keenly aware of just how much he used his magic. He couldn’t transform his hair, and he didn’t want Hunter to see. He couldn’t simply warp out of the house, and he couldn’t send an abomination soldier to check when Hunter was out of the kitchen.

Fine. He knew other ways he could disguise himself.

He tugged his old cloak out of the closet, a pang of nostalgia sweeping him off his feet. Sometimes he missed skulking around, having a secret identity, being part of a secret organization. If it weren’t for the looming pressure of the world-ending threat, it would have been… fun.

Hiding this from Hunter, though, going behind his back even when he’d promised to let Hunter make his own choices… the secret double life was less fun this time go round. Regardless, he swung the cloak around his shoulders, pulled the hood up to hide his hair, and escaped out the back door while Hunter opened and closed drawers in his room with a little more force than Darius thought was strictly necessary.

Steve waited for him around the corner with his motorcycle. He raised one eyebrow at Darius’ cloak. “Very inconspicuous.”

“Did you turn anything up?”

Steve shook his head. “Not much evidence, I’m afraid. Even Eber didn’t turn up a trail.”

“No familiar scents?”

“No Collector scent, if that’s what you’re asking.” Steve scratched his head. “I think he said… there was an unfamiliar scent, and he followed it as long as he could. But then it… disappeared?”

“Must have teleported. Unless Eber is emotionally close to the subject of teleportation—such as when I use my warp—he can’t tell where they’ve gone.” Darius scratched absently at his chest where the gem had been embedded. “Well—I’ve found some clue, unfortunately. My magic still hasn’t come back—any chance you’d be up for a bike ride?”

Steve drove much more slowly this time—of course he did, there wasn’t a life-ending threat this time. But still, Darius wished he drove a bit faster. He thought morosely that his abomination teleport would have them there already.

“How’s Hunter? He okay?”

“He’s recovering,” Darius replied stiffly, “I don’t believe he’s particularly pleased with me at the moment.”

“Because of the slicing? Man, that’s rough. It’s not like that was your f—”

“No. Not the injury.” Darius looked away, discouraging any other questions.

Steve pulled the motorcycle to a halt at the old Latissa police station. “Weird place for a visit.”

Darius rubbed his face. He already didn’t want to be here. “For better or for worse, we do have experts on missing magic now. It might not be the same as the issues they’re looking to solve, but…”

“They might be able to narrow the field,” Steve finished, “Any reason in particular why you’re looking at the building like you think you can set it on fire with your mind?”

Darius carefully schooled his face into a calm mask. “It’s fine.”

He pushed the door open, and had the immediate misfortune of bumping into Alador on his way out.

“No, we haven’t made much progress, yes, I will tell you when we do, we are working on it. And we need peace and quiet to do so.”

Darius rolled his eyes. “I’m not here for that. I’m here for… this.”

He pulled off his hood, his hair tumbling down over his shoulders. It had been ages since he’d gotten a haircut—he’d relied on his magic to keep his hair cared for and styled for so long, there hadn’t really been a need.

Alador stared blankly at him. “You’ve got your natural hair,” he said flatly, “What, did you want my opinion on the look? It’s better than the pile of goop you usually call ‘style’ if you really want to kno—”

Darius’ cheeks flushed, and he yanked the hood back up. “It’s not on purpose,” he hissed, “Something’s wrong with my magic.”

Alador straightened up. “Viney?” he called.

A young girl poked her head out of another room, spotted Darius, and almost immediately started glaring at him. “What’s he doing here?”

Oh. Yes, Darius recognized her. She was one of Hunter’s teammates. One of Hunter’s teammates who’d crashed his blimp.

He could have sworn he’d explained himself. Maybe that had just been to Willow and Gus. Or maybe, he realized, noting the Penstagram scroll in her hand, Hunter had reached out to his friends about how Darius was dumping him onto Eda. He wished he could tell her that it had been for the best—that he wanted to keep Hunter safe from Darius himself—but she’d likely just relay all of that immediately to Hunter, who would immediately try to get involved.

Well, wait a minute. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked. Sure, he’d let Hunter have the day off, with the injury and all, but that didn’t explain why Viney was here.

It was definitely the wrong thing to say, though, because her frown only deepened. “I’m here as an elective,” she told him matter-of-factly, “It’s my healing class clinical. Jerbo and I are writing a thesis. Once again, what are you doing here?”

“He came here for help,” Alador told her, a small, smug smile twitching onto his face. Darius bristled at the sight of it, but pushed back the part of himself that wanted to launch immediately into an argument. That wouldn’t be helpful here.

“My magic isn’t working properly—isn’t working at all, in fact. I know it has something to do with some sort of hex cast on me yesterday, but I was hoping you could tell me more.”

Viney nodded slowly, twisting her earring around in her ear. “We-ell,” she drawled, “if it doesn’t have to do with sigil magic, I’m not sure how much we can help you. For instance, if it shares more similarities with the owl beast curse, we’re not going to be much use. I can try, though.”

She whistled sharply, and a griffin bounded to her side. Viney took a deep breath, and drew a circle, a blue circle with a wire of orange twisting around it—healing and beast magic mixed together, Darius realized. Viney’s eyes glowed, and so did the griffin’s—the two moved eerily in sync, pacing a circle around Darius. Viney made a couple of cawing, growling sounds like a griffin, and Darius could have sworn, inexplicably, that he heard Viney’s voice mumble from the beak of the griffin.

The glowing faded, and Viney sniffed, blinking hard. “Griffin senses can often pick up on magic trails witches can’t,” she explained, “Puddles is a great help.” She clapped her hands. “So! There’s good news, and there’s bad news. The good news is, I know exactly what’s causing the magic blockage!”

“That is good,” Darius agreed, “What’s the bad news?”

“It’s your sigil. It’s active, like on the day of unity.”

Darius’ hand went immediately to the mark on his arm. It looked… normal. The same way it always did, no golden veins sprouting up his arm. “No it’s not. It’s not glowing, and I haven’t keeled over yet.”

“Multiple spells layered on top of each other,” Alador offered, “One to drain the magic, another one to mask the effect.”

“It’s not as strong as the day of unity spell,” Viney explained, “It’s definitely the same magic, but I don’t think the intent is to kill you—only to siphon off your magic at a sustainable rate. You know, the kind of energy you’d use on a day-to-day basis, but not your actual lifeforce. There’s actually three spells squished together, but I’m not quite sure what the last one is.”

“Mind control,” Darius growled, “That part’s been broken, thankfully.”

Hopefully.

“Mmm.” Viney eyed him skeptically. “Well—there’s still traces of it. Like I said, I detected three different spells. Be careful.”

“So.” Alador tapped his chin. “Three spells—alright, so, they mind control you. Get you to do…”

“We don’t know. They didn’t get that far.”

I highly doubt they mind controlled me just to take out Hunter, given that he wasn’t even supposed to be there.

“Fine. They try and fail to mind control you, but there’s a failsafe built in, a spell that keeps going after the mind control is broken.”

“If they can’t use my magic, no one can,” Darius realized, “Oh, that’s devious, isn’t it? Makes perfect sense. If they can’t have me as a puppet, they certainly don’t want me as an enemy.”

“Hm. Well, like I told you, we haven’t figured out a way to reverse the sigil magic yet. Short of finding the person who did this, or waiting for the Collector to come back and see if they can reverse it, there’s not much you can do. Without the source…”

“I’ve got the source.”

Darius jumped. He’d forgotten Steve was even here. But the ex scout pulled a small pouch out of his pocket. “What did you…?”

“The pieces of the crystal. The source. I gathered up what I could—gloves on of course.”

Alador snatched the pouch from Steve’s hand. “We can get somewhere with this.” He glanced up at Darius. “Can’t promise it’ll be our top priority, but we’ll certainly give it a look.”

Darius acknowledged the statement with a cool nod, but turned towards Viney as a thought struck him. “Don’t tell Hunter I was here?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to worry him. And I don’t want him getting involved and trying to investigate on his own.”

“Mmm. Fair enough.” Viney crinkled her nose at him. “He’ll figure it out, though. I mean, with your hair the way it is, and the fact that Steve’s driving you places…”

That much was true. Unless… Darius sighed. “Alador, I have one last favor to ask you.”

“You are full of them today, aren’t you?”

“Nothing big, just a quick ask. You don’t happen to still have any of Odalia’s old concealment stones, do you?”

When Steve finally dropped Darius off—again around the corner from his house—Darius’ hair floated once again over his head. Or, at least, it looked that way. Darius checked once again to make sure the concealment stone was tucked out of sight, and finally went back home.

To his relief, Hunter’s duffel bag was full, and Darius noted an open drawer.

Much less assuringly, Hunter sat on the floor, leaning against his dresser with his eyes closed. His skin was paler than it had been this morning—shouldn’t the opposite be true? He should have cooked something else for breakfast, something with more protein and iron in it.

“Hunter?”

“Mm.” Hunter opened his eyes, although they still drooped considerably. “Oh—hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just… tired.” Hunter rubbed his eyes with his good hand. “I guess I just overdid it a little bit when I was packing. How was your… appointment?”

Even in his exhausted state, Hunter’s eyes darted across Darius’ face with an alert calculation that made Darius pause before answering.

“Fine,” he said finally.

Hunter’s eyes flicked up to his hair, to the old cloak he wore, and a small frown pulled at his mouth.

“You’re all packed?” Darius asked briskly, moving the conversation away, “You remembered your toothbrush?”

Hunter gave him a distracted thumbs up. “Your appointment, did it have to do with—”

“Steve is close to apprehending the culprit.” The lie slid off Darius’ tongue so easily it startled him. He should find lying to Hunter harder than this, shouldn’t he? But maybe old habits died hard, and, of course, this was to protect him. He had to keep his issues a secret, to protect Hunter from them. “That’s what the meeting was about. Steve’s been working hard to find out what happened yesterday, and he was giving me an update. He’s close. The situation is almost completely handled.”

Hunter eyed him skeptically. “…Right.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You seem…”

“It’s just the blood loss. I’m fine.” Hunter got to his feet, leaning on the dresser for balance. “Whoa—dizzy.” He took a deep breath. “I still don’t like that you’re sending me away.”

“I don’t like it either. Believe me.”

“I do believe you,” Hunter said lightly, but Darius could hear the sentiment behind his words clear as day.

I believe you about that. But I know you’re hiding something.

Darius shook himself. “Let me get your bag. Luz will be here soon.”

Hunter would go away, and would be safe from this mystery. Darius would resolve the issue on his own, perhaps with some help from Steve, Alador, and Viney. And then Hunter would come back. Maybe after it was all over, Darius would tell him the whole story.

But for now, it had to stay secret.

[whump-place]

Bad to Worse to... Comfort?

Masterlist

content: be a good Caretaker, you can do it!

You sigh. This is gonna be harder than you expected.

After a moment you realize that maybe he's tired, that was his first night outside the base in which he was for two months, it's a miracle that he managed to sleep at all. Well, there are some spare blankets in your room, you can as well let him borrow them for a few days.

When you walk into his room you make sure to make the least noise possible, you guess that wake him up might not be the best option.

The soft fabric still smells like the detergent you use to wash the bed clothes, you hope that he likes it.

Softly, almost as if you were dealing with a piece of fragile ceramic that could break any moment, you tip toe around the room. He looks so peaceful while he sleeps, and if you recall correctly when he was with you in the base he spent most of his time sleeping.

Well, after all the conditions in which he was found were far from being good, he sure needs a lot of time to recover.

You kneel next to him, covering his body with the blanket and leaving a pillow on the floor, just in case he might want it when he wakes up, though you would prefer if he sleeps on the bed next time.

Poor thing...

Now that you think about it, maybe you weren't the best option for keeping him.

He needs help, maybe a psychiatrist and someone who can offer him some kind of therapy like a doctor, not you. You barely know what he's been through, the fact that he seemed to like you more than the others was mere bad luck, this wasn't meant to happen, and you know it.

But it's too late to regret now. As you stand up on your full size again you realize. He's now your responsibility, and you can't leave him behind, you have to do your best, and if that means reading books about mental health, trying a new diet, learning sign language. God. You'd even learn how to cook and clean the house properly if that helps in anything, then so be it!

It seems you got lost in thought until a small voice calls you from the floor. A raspy and shaking voice.

"Master...?

Taglist:

•@whumpsday

•@rainbowsandwhumperflies

•@mylovelyme

•@foresttheblep

•@hadihaz

•@wishiwaskidnapped

[chaoticbeanz]

Hellfire’s Girl 3

Summary- Peaches makes some new discoveries.

Pairing- Eddie Munson x Fem!oc

Warnings-(if I have left any out please let me know) friends to lovers, slow burn, she/her pronouns, cursing, mainly nickname will be used, weed mention and usage,

Word Count- Almost 2k

Notes- There will be straying from the storyline. Also sorry Eddie will be in the next part I promise.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

~Lena~

It felt like I was seeing the world through a different lense every time. Smoke filled my lungs with every hit I took. Mind turning to mush. Thoughts crashing together. Body relaxing and just enjoying the company. I couldn’t stop the smile creeping on my face. Gareth took notice.

”Whatcha thinking about Peaches?”

“Everything and nothing. I’m glad I found a smoking buddy. I was afraid I’d be alone all the time since I moved. Not that I don’t mind being alone. Gotta have space sometimes, you know?”

Jesus I’m rambling. Shut up!

“My best friend was my buddy.” My smile became sad at the thought of them. I missed them so much. Sure we talked on the phone, but it wasn’t the same as hanging out together. “You would like them. We have similar tastes, though I’d argue she’s a bit more girly than me.”

”Well, can’t wait to meet her eventually. Who knows? Might fall in love.” Gareth raises his eyebrows and I could help but giggle.

”You can try but she plays for the same team if you catch my drift.” I took a sip of my drink to avoid cotton mouth.

I can see his eyes widen like it clicked and he nods in understanding. “Do you?”

I choked. I wasn’t expecting that question so soon.

Gareth patted my back to help me, “I’m sorry. That was personal. You don’t have to answer that.”

Once I regained my composure, I reassured him. “No no, it’s okay. It just caught me off guard. I, uh, I play both sides.”

“Hey, that’s cool. I don’t judge. I think one of Eddie’s other friends likes girls too. You should meet her.”

I giggled, “Trying to set me up, Gareth?”

He playfully scoffs, “Ha, you wish.” then passed the joint back to me.

I must admit as soon as he mentioned Eddie, my mind went astray. Gareth did say he was a fellow stoner. I wonder what he’s like when he’s high? Does he mellow out or get more amped up? How many rounds can he go? And I’m not just talking about smoking. What do his lips taste like?

I had not realized how deep in thought I was until lungs began yelling at me. It felt like they were on fire. Like a tiny dragon had set them ablaze. A coughing fit erupted as I passed the joint back to Gareth. He took it from me laughing as I scrambled for my drink to ease the pain.

I shoved his arm, “Fuck you! I’d like to see you take a big hit and not almost die!” My voice raspy as I still try to recover.

Gareth took that as a challenge.

I watched him inhale, his chest puffing out and the joint burning fiercely.

A few seconds pass by right before he has his own coughing fit. Immediately regretting his choice. He shoves the joint back to me. Now it was my turn to laugh, cackle even.

Between my laughing and his coughing, the music that was playing from inside my room was being drowned out.

Wiping the tears from our eyes for different reasons. I hand him his drink to ease his suffering.

“I didn’t mean for you to actually do it, you lightweight!”

Gareth looked at me like he was busted, “What gave it away?”

I took another hit then blew the smoke in his direction. “When I asked if you had a spot and you hesitated.” He rubbed the back of his neck looking embarrassed. “Stoners always have a spot. With or without company. I wouldn’t have thought less of you if you didn’t want to.”

”No no no, you’re right. I am a lightweight and to be more honest, you're way cooler than all of us combined Peaches.”

I couldn’t help the blush that spread across my cheeks. “Oh shut up! I just met you guys and you’re totally cool!” I offer the roach to him but he declines. Signaling that he has tapped out. I respect it and place it on the table in my room to remind myself to place it with the others that are for emergency use.

“I mean I don’t know how you guys can get any better?”

~3rd person~

This was it! His chance, his opportunity to be a wingman for his best friend. Gareth wasn’t an idiot. He saw the way Eddie looked at you and you him. There was something there.

“We’re a band.” He tells her seemingly nonchalant. But inside he's nervous.

Peaches snaps her head to him, her expression unreadable. “Are you serious?”

“Yeeeaahh. Me, Eddie, Jeff and Doug.” Gareth rubs the back of his neck nervously. Doubting that his plan wasn’t going to work. “Are we still cool?”

”Are you shitting me?!? That’s fucking awesome! I’m friends with a band?! That’s the best brag I could ever have!”

Gareth let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Peaches on the other hand couldn’t catch a breath.

“What’s your band name? Do you guys perform? Do you have music recorded? Can I hear it please? Are you guitar or drums? I’m leaning more to drums but that could just be me.”

”Peaches! Breath!” He grabbed her by the shoulders.

She was stunned for a moment then let out a giggle. “I’m sorry.”

Gareth chuckled and let go of her. “It’s okay. We’re called Corroded Coffin. Sometimes we do at a place called the Hideout. I think I may have a copy that we did and yes you can listen to it. You’re right, I play drums. Doug is bass. Both Jeff and Eddie are guitar though Eddie is lead and vocals.”

”Wow! This is so exciting! I will now be your number one fan!” Peaches couldn’t help but be giddy about it all. Her new friends were amazing. There was however one last mystery. “Wait, if your band is Corroded Coffin? Then what’s Hellfire Club?” She pointed towards the t- shirt Gareth as well as all the other boys were wearing.

”Oh. Uh, you don’t need to worry about that Peach. It’s nothing.” Gareth tried to deflect.

”That’s not fair Gare! You all have the same shirt. It has to mean something! Is it because I’m a girl?”

He could hear the sadness showing in her voice. But he was afraid you’d make fun of them. “No, it’s not because you're a girl. It’s just… you’re gonna think it’s stupid or weird. Or that we’re…”

”Freaks?” She finished. “Listen, I already told Eddie that if not conforming to society brands you a freak? Then count me as one.”

Hearing that from Peaches just solidifies for him that she isn’t like everyone else in this god forsaken town.

She can see the hesitation in his eyes, “You don’t have to tell if you-“

”It’s our D&D club!” Gareth blurted out with closed eyes. Too afraid to see her reaction.

When the silence became too much he slowly opened his eyes to see Peaches with her mouth wide open in shock. There’s no way she heard that correctly.

“As in Dungeons and Dragons?”

Gareth rubs the back of his neck nervously nodding. What he didn’t anticipate was Peaches punching his arm in excitement which nearly caused him to fall off the roof.

She reached out to steady him, “ I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! Are you okay?!”

“Yeah I’m good.” Gareth chuckled. “So I take it, you know the game?”

”I’ve never played but I know some kids I went to school with did. I always wanted to play but found it so intimidating so I kept chickening out.”

”Seriously?! Can you get any cooler!?”

“I could say the same about you guys!”

They both shared a laugh then continued talking about anything and everything. Before they knew it the sky began to grow dark and a pair of headlights made their way up the driveway.

“That would be my mother. Would you like to stay for dinner?” Peaches stands and climbs through her window back into her room. Gareth follows suit.

”I appreciate the offer but I should head home to my folks.”

”That’s okay. I figured I would ask first before my mom does.”

Peaches then grabs their trash and tosses it in the bin. Her eyes catch the roach laying on the table. She takes and puts it away with the rest that she has saved.

As both Gareth and Peaches make their way downstairs, she hears her mothers voice. “Lena! Is your friend staying for dinner?”

Peaches winks at Gareth as if to say “told ya”.

They stand in the archway of the kitchen, “Mom, this is Gareth. Gareth, my mother.” Peaches introduces. “And no. I’m taking him home so I’ll be back.”

“Oh okay. It was nice meeting you sweetie. Drive safe Lena.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” Gareth waves then follows Peaches.

“Remember, drive safe Lena.” Gareth teases as they get in the car.

“Shut up! Now it sounds weird when you guys use my actual name.” Peaches shoves him playfully. To her it didn't sound right for the boys to say her name. She was now Peaches to them, even if in just a short amount of time that they’ve known each other. Although her mind wasn’t objecting to the idea of Eddie saying her name. He might be the only exception.

The drive was filled with more conversation and music playing. It wasn’t long until Peaches pulled up to the curb of Gareth’s house. “Thanks for the ride Peaches.”

Before she could think, Peaches pulled Gareth into a tight hug, “Thank you.”

“What for?”, he questioned.

“Everything.”, she pulled away, “Becoming my friend, introducing me to the boys, hanging out with me; I was so worried I wouldn’t find people I actually wanted to be around.”

”Well, now you can’t get rid of us.”

Peaches laughs, “That’s fine with me. And don’t worry, I won't tell the boys that you told me about Corroded Coffin and Hellfire. I could tell you wanted to keep them a secret.”

Little did she know, Gareth wasn’t planning on telling the boys that she knew either. He wanted to keep the game going.

“I knew I could trust you Peaches. See ya at school.”

Gareth exits the car, gives one last wave then heads into his house.

Peaches makes her way back home, eats dinner with her parents, finishes up some homework, and climbs into bed. The whole day replays in her mind. A smile never leaves until her eyes grow heavy and sleep takes over.

Meanwhile on the other side of town, a certain someone had trouble falling asleep.

Eddie was tossing and turning, his thoughts running rampant. Did Peaches like Gareth? What did they talk about? What did they do? Did he even have a shot to begin with? What did her room look like? Okay, that’s weird. Eddie shook his head trying to purge the thoughts. The little green monster was still festering and out for blood. Why does he get to spend time with her?

“I’ll just have a little chat with him tomorrow. Yeah that sounds good.”

Eddie took one last pull from his joint to calm him before closing his eyes and hoping that dreamland would be in his favor.

Tagged: @luv4peterba1lard @arlxt06 @midnyghtsolstice

Thank you for reading!

If you would like to be tagged or share your thoughts please leave a comment. It is always appreciated.

More Eddie in part 4 I swear!

[thekinkyleopard]

A Fever You Can’t

Sweat Out

A Remi x Levi Sick Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Sick fic, Contagion, Fluff, Caretaking

Description: Remi and Levi are both under the weather. They spend the day miserably tangled up in their bed, a mixture of sweating bodies and wheezing breaths.

Based off this Prompt:

Author’s Notes: Geezie told me she's been salivating over this prompt for our boys so I am here to please! Cover art and Remi are the makings of @aller-geez

It was a day like any other, yet it wasn't. Something stirred in the air, and more importantly within the sinuses of Remi and Levi on this bright and early morning. What was it you might wonder?

Remi the first to peep his still heavily lidded eyes open, glowing emeralds quickly turning pale as the sun glared through their blinds. "Fuck..." he groaned from a sore throat. Oh no. He knew that feeling, it never escaped him and now that he was aware of it, his head started to feel hotter, and his body ached. He was sick.

Levi, still in a daze, shifted in his bed and rubbed his eyes. The words "Fuck..." escaped Remi's mouth in a low, raspy tone that sent a shiver down Levi's spine. He knew what it meant when Remi uttered that curse first thing in the morning. He was sick, but thats not the worst part, because the second conciousness began to find the small leopard, he too realized he was feeling like a pile of hot garbage. Levi sniffled lightly, peeping his icy blues open to peer at his mate, the two made eye contact. Neither of them saying a word but realizing at the same moment, they were both sick. What the hell were they going to do?

Levi couldnt afford to take the time off of work. There was always the option to complete his responsibility from home, but he knew between him being sick and Remi being sick it was almost impossible to ask that of either of them. The blue eyed man sighed and shook his throbbing head regardless. "I have to work..." he spoke with a softened, raspy tone, his throat clearly just as sore as Remi's own affliction.

Levi dragged himself out of bed, his body heavy with fatigue. He stumbled towards the bathroom, every step feeling like a Herculean effort. As he splashed cold water on his face, and braced himself against the counter, he stared at his pale reflection in the mirror. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, evidence of the sleepless night and impending illness.

Remi, who had managed to sit up in bed, watched Levi with concern etched on his face, rubbing his arm across his already leaking nostrils. "Are you sure you should go to work?" he rasped, voice strained from his own illness. "You look terrible."

Levi let out a weak chuckle, wincing at the pain it caused in his chest. "Thanks for the compliment," he muttered playfully trying his best to keep a positive outlook. "But we can't both stay home. We can't afford it right now...besides, I'll still be here in bed just...using my laptop, sNdFf...." he snuffled, grabbing a handful of toilet paper before blowing his nose into the respectively crumpled up wad.

Remi nodded reluctantly, understanding their financial situation all too well. "Alright....fine...I'll call out...and...h-h.." it started, his body froze and his hands balled into tightened fists. He was going to sneeze, and he couldn't fight it off as the strained itch became persistent inside him.

He tried to cover his mouth and nose with his hands, but it was too late. "hhh'ISCHiH! H'ut--sschhiew!! t'SChiew!" A loud and forceful series of sneezes erupted from Remi's body, echoing through the small bedroom. Levi winced, the sound took him by surprise and only seemed to make the pounding in his head worse with how abrupt the other was.

Remi's eyes watered as he recovered from the sneeze, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment, he reached over to the side table and snagged a tissue from the box. "Sorry...snDff..." he croaked while wiping his nose and face clear of any residual mess and also hoping to alleviate some of the congestion. He groaned gently, his voice even more hoarse than before.

Levi sighed, understanding that keeping their illnesses contained was going to be an uphill battle. "It's okay, I dont think either of us expected that," he replied sympathetically, still trying to smile through the whole ordeal. Levi crossed the space of the room to place a gentle palm on the side of Remi's heated cheek. "I'll go get our stash of meds and supplies...make us some tea and we can cuddle while I get some emails taken care of, sound good?" the leopard asked the other, who more or less looked as if he was completely spaced out from reality in the first place.

Remi nodded weakly, grateful for Levi's comforting touch. The idea of tea and cuddling sounded like heaven to him in his current state of misery. He watched as Levi shuffled out of the room, his footsteps heavy and slow. Remi sank back against the pillows, feeling the weight of fatigue settle over him like a suffocating blanket. His body trembled with chills, even though he was bundled up in blankets.

While Levi made his way down the hall, the floor felt unsteady beneath him, his hands reached out for the walls to hold himself upright, as he finally made it to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He opened it and sighed in relief at the sight of their well-stocked supply of cold and flu medication. With how often they fell under the weather, it was imperative Levi kept the house full of the necessities. Grabbing a few boxes, along with some tissues and a thermometer, Levi carefully carried everything back to the bedroom.

He set up a makeshift sick bay on the nightstand, placing the medication, tissues, and thermometer within easy reach. Then, he walked over to the kitchen to prepare two cups of some chamomile and ginger tea. His head throbbed, and his back ached but he refused to let it defeat him as he finished pouring the two glasses with a deep inhale and exhale to power through.

Levi shuffled back into the bedroom, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. The fragrant aroma filled the air, bringing a sense of comfort to the room. He carefully set one mug down on Remi's nightstand, then settled himself back into bed beside his sick mate.

Remi gratefully reached for the mug and took a small sip, reveling in the soothing warmth that spread through his body. The spicy ginger and calming chamomile seemed to offer some respite from their symptoms. Levi did the same, taking a moment to appreciate the healing properties of the tea before speaking.

"I'm glad we have each other," Levi murmured, his voice still strained but filled with genuine affection. He set his cup gently on his own side table and shoveled his laptop out from under the bed, before finishing his thought."Even though we're both sick, at least we can take care of each other." He looked over at the larger, smiling sweetly, his reddened nose twitched and the wolf couldn't dismiss how cute he thought Levi looked like this. Messy hair, reddened nostrils and cheeks, sleepy eyes.

Remi nodded weakly, feeling a surge of emotion well up within him. Despite their illnesses, he was overwhelmed by a deep sense of gratitude for their relationship. They had faced countless challenges together, and this was just another hurdle they would overcome side by side.

Levi opened his laptop and began to tackle his work obligations while propped up comfortably thanks to a few fluffed pillows. Responding to emails and organizing his tasks for the day. Despite feeling under the weather, he pushed through, determined to fulfill his professional responsibilities. Remi glanced over at Levi, admiration shining in his tired eyes. He marveled at how dedicated and hardworking his mate was, even when sick.

But as Remi continued to gaze at Levi, a sudden familiar prickle crept up his nose like TV static upon flesh. He instinctively pressed a finger against it, hoping to suppress the monster that threatened to burst forth. His nostrils flared, the bridge of his nose scrunched and his eyes watered as he fought against the inevitable.

Levi, sensing Remi's struggle, paused in his work and turned his attention towards him. His concerned gaze met Remi's glossy eyes, and without a moment's hesitation, he reached out to gently place a hand on Remi's arm.

"Are you alright?" Levi asked softly, worry evident in his voice.

Remi tried to speak, but all that escaped was a muffled and strained sound of "Gyahh~?" as he continued to battle against his own illness. His face contorted, eyebrows furrowed, and he clenched his teeth together, desperately trying to hold it back.

Levi's grip tightened on Remi's arm, offering both reassurance and support.

"Let it out, love," the leopard gently encouraged, his voice sweet and comforting. "It's okay. Just let it happen." reassuring the wolf with a loving rub of his hand.

Remi nodded, his breathing shallow and rapid as he surrendered to the sneeze that had been building within him. He closed his eyes tightly, his body tensing in anticipation. And then, with a forceful burst of air, he sneezed.

"Hi-h..Hiiii'IITTSSSSHUU!! HI'DTSCHIEW! hdt'iSHH!" The sneezes echoed through the room, even louder than the last time. It was as if a cannon had gone off, shaking Remi to his core. He slumped back against the pillows, feeling both exhausted and relieved all at once. He loudly slurped through his nose, desperate to try and save himself the mess of it all dripping out.

Levi reached for a tissue and handed it to Remi, who gratefully accepted it. As Remi wiped his nose, he couldn't help but chuckle weakly. "Tangz baby," he mumbles weakly as he tries to clear himself up. Levi can only shake his head before leaning over to kiss the large man upon his shoulder.

"Sure thing, snDfF," trying clear himself of his own horrible afflictions. Levi's head throbbed, and as they both took a moment to take a round of medications, the cat could feel his own storm brewing carefully around the corner. His eyes narrowed as he watched the screen carefully, trying to focus his attentions on his work and not his own impending doom. Remi slid back under the covers and pushed himself against Levi's body, head resting under the other's arm, snuggled into his side. This was comforting for them both, as the leopard found his strength and center focus again.

However, the smaller was a fool to think he could outsmart a virus. What he was pushing back was only boiling to come back stronger. Levi's determination wavered as he felt a tickle in his throat, a subtle warning sign of what was to come. He cleared his throat, hoping to suppress the mounting pressure, but it only seemed to worsen. Panic rose within him; he couldn't falter, he had to stay strong. For Remi.

He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold it back, but it was no use. "--Hah'ESHHh'uh!!"the leopard sneezed forcefully, his arm flinging upward to catch the mess into the crook of his elbow, startling Remi from his half-dozing state. The wolf looked up at Levi with concern, realizing that his mate was now succumbing to the same illness that had plagued him.

"I'b so sorry I god you sigg," Remi mutters behind his frown stained lips. "I did'd know ...." his head falls against Levi's shoulder, the weight of this virus taking his ability to even muster the strength to look at his mate.

"It's okay, Rems, you seem to be suffering the worst of it," Levi replied, his voice hoarse and strained. He gently rubbed Remi's back, trying to provide some comfort amidst their mutual ailments. "Besides, we'll get through this together. We always do." there was that positive outlook that the wolf loved so deeply, wishing he too could be so thoughtful.

Remi let out a weak chuckle, but it was quickly followed by a fit of coughs that wracked his entire body. Levi held him tighter, feeling a mixture of concern and helplessness wash over him. Both of them were now trapped in the clutches of this relentless illness, with no escape but to endure. "Tch, my poor baby," Levi clicked through his teeth.

As the day wore on and the sun was starting to set, their symptoms only seemed to worsen. Levi's headache intensified, making it difficult for him to focus on anything besides the throbbing pain in his temples as he stared blankly ahead at his laptop screen, really only having gotten through a few emails. It was like he couldnt get his fingers to move fast enough across the keys. They were tight, and sore.

Remi's coughing became more frequent and violent, leaving him gasping for air after each paroxysm.

They huddled together for warmth, seeking solace in each other's presence as they rode out the storm of their sickness. Their makeshift sick bay getting low in stock as they continued to take meds on the hour every few hours. It was an atrocity. Levi slammed his laptop shut and shoveled it under the bed. "I cant look at a screen anymore, my head might actually implode...." he groaned bringing a hand up to massage and rub at his temples.

Remi, even in his weakened state, mustered a small smile. "Maybe it's a sign," he rasped, his voice hoarse from coughing. "A sign that we need to take a break, rest, and heal,"

Levi sighed heavily, the pain behind his eyes making it difficult to think clearly, but Remi's words struck a chord within him. Maybe he needed to stop pushing himself so hard and prioritize their well-being over work obligations.

"You're right," Levi conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached for Remi's hand and squeezed it gently. "Let's forget about work for now. We'll focus on getting better together."

They settled back against the pillows, their bodies pressed close for comfort. The room was enveloped in silence as they allowed themselves to drift into a comfortable stillness, the sound of their labored breathing filling the air. Remi's arms protectively encasing the thin male, nuzzling his face into the side of his clammy neck. Levi's breath hitched, his arms grew goosebumps and he tried to push away the thoughts that raced through his mind when he felt the man's lips at his flesh.

His eyelids fluttered closed, surrendering to the gentle touch of lips against his neck. It was a simple gesture, one that spoke volumes of love and vulnerability. "I love you...." Levi whispered into the now darkness of their shared bedroom. His headache faded into the background as he focused on the softness of Remi's lips, the wolf now indulging himself in a series of them across the space he inhabited, light pecks followed by one sensual lick. The cat's heart beating in sync with every gentle kiss. In that moment, they forgot about their illness, their worries, and the world outside their sick bay.

Remi's fingertips brushed delicately against Levi's cheek, savoring the softness of his flesh there. Levi's breath hitched as he felt the other's warm breath against his ear, whispering words of affection and adoration that sent shivers down his spine. "I love you, Kitten," Their lips met in a hungry kiss, a mingling of souls that consumed them both, momentarily eclipsing the pain and discomfort they were battling. It was a few moments of getting lost within one another that Remi couldn't even register what was building behind him like a locked door.

Yet, as secure as he thought he was, it was nothing more than an illusion, the deeper Remi fell into his lover's lips, the stronger the sneezes brewing behind it, got.

He tried to fight back the sudden onslaught of symptoms, clenching his jaw and scrunching his nose as he desperately held on to the embrace. But it was in vain. A sudden convulsion rocked his frame. "-H'DttISHH!"The sneeze came roaring out of him, removing himself from the kiss just in time to release an explosive burst of air and particles that sprayed across Levi's neck with a force that made them both freeze.

Levi stayed eerily still for a moment, his body tensing at the unexpected sensation. But instead of recoiling in disgust, he surprised himself by finding the whole thing oddly sensual. Shivering even. The warm wetness on his skin sent a tingle down his spine. "B-Bless you, baby," he blushed, clearing his own scratchy throat with a strangled cough.

"Shit...I'm sorry 'bout that kitten..." Remi reached over for a tissue from behind him before stretching his body back to be close to his mate again. Wiping his nose clear from any ick, he looked back up at the other bracing himself for a disappointed partner, but to his surprise, Levi was smiling. A slight blush still staining his cheeks. "It's okay," he said softly, reaching out to caress Remi's cheek with his fingertips. "Actually, it felt...kind of good," He couldn't believe he was admitting it, but there was a strange intimacy in that moment, a raw vulnerability that they had never experienced before.

Remi smirked, a cocky glint in his paled eyes. "Oh, really?" he replied playfully sucking on the back of his lip piercings. "Well, I guess I'll have to sneeze on you more often then," He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, earning a playful swat from the cat.

Levi chuckled, the sound a mix of love and amusement. "As tempting as that sounds," he said, a playful tone in his voice, "I think we should focus on getting better first." booping the tip of his lover's nose with his frailed index finger.

Remi sighed dramatically, feigning disappointment. "Fine," he said with mock reluctanc, sticking his tongue out and sinking back into the blankets.

Levi couldn't help but roll his cerulean eyes back with amusement at his stubborn mate, as nice as some naked wrestling sounded, the leopard was just far too weakened to be bothered.

They settled into the bed, their bodies molded together with an ease that only years of intimacy could bring. Remi's arm snaked around Levi's waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Their legs intertwined, their feet tangling together as if they were a jigsaw puzzle. The warmth radiating from their entwined bodies created a cozy cocoon in the cold room.

Levi sighed contentedly, his head resting against Remi's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a lullaby of love and comfort that washed over him, pushing away the concerns and fears that had plagued their minds earlier in the day. Despite the illness that had taken up residence within them, they found a great comfort in each other's arms.

As they lay there, the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a dreamlike ambiance in the room. Shadows danced on the walls, their silhouettes merging and separating like a gentle ballet. The air was still as they each fell into the land of dreams, hoping to feel some relief by time morning came.

The End

Author's Notes: Sorry my fics have been so short recently you guys, I just try to write as much as my brain will allow me to! I hope you guy's like Geez's request ;u; These two are stupid cute I love them so much.

[fistfuloftarenths]

WIP Whenever

tagged by @my-favourite-zhent and using this as an excuse to inflict some badly written regency au rugan on everyone there is some implied attempt SA in here but nothing bad happens (i think this is the right way to warn people? let me know if not)

“Don’t think the lass wants to go with you, friend,” said the newcomer. A man’s voice, raspy and drawling.

The Honourable was startled, but recovered swiftly. “And who are you to interrupt?” he sniffed. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m choosin’ to concern myself,” said the man in the darkness.

“By the gods,” said the Honourable. “It’s just a bit of fun! They run, we give chase, the thrill of the hunt, you know! Or perhaps you don’t.” For the unknown man’s accent was very far from the plummy vowels of the nobility. A northern accent, one of those dreadful manufacturing towns full of soot and machinery.

Something happened, too fast for her to make sense of it; a shadow detached itself from the hedge and loomed close; the scuffle of feet and the thump of flesh on flesh, and the Honourable let go of her and fell down, and did not move.

“That’s him sorted,” said her unknown helper with some satisfaction, and Tav tried to take a breath to thank him and fainted for the first time in her life.

She regained consciousness to find herself half-laying on a stone bench, the other man’s arms around her. She flinched away and he let her go.

“Easy, lass.”

“Oh,” said Tav, inadequately. “Oh.” 

“Giving you a bit of trouble, was he?”

Tav nodded before realising he couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she said, although that couldn’t begin to explain being trapped in a room with four or five noblemen between her and the door, their eyes bright with drink. “I wasn’t - I didn’t -”

“Course you weren’t.” 

“Is he - dead?” she whispered. They’d both hang if he was. Maybe she could leave the city tomorrow. Travel south down the coast and change her name -

“Gods, no. Rattled his bonebox is all, and he’ll have the very devil of a headache when he wakes up.”

“Oh.”

“Who is he, then? He live here?” The man pointed at the house, his arm a deeper black against the shadows.

“A guest,” Tav said. “The Hon-honourable John P------.” An entirely inappropriate form of address, she thought bitterly. “The Earl of R—-’s second son.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said.

“Do you know him?”

“Only by name, but them rich tossers are all alike.” Which did not seem quite fair, but Tav was not inclined to argue the point. “We might move the body to be safe,” he added, reflectively. “Someone finds him sprawled out like that they’ll get the dogs out.”

Chased by dogs. Tav shuddered. She’d thought his hands on her would be the worst thing, not teeth closing in her flesh.

“I am very sorry, but I’m not sure I can stand up just yet,” she apologised.

“Aye, it takes you that way,” before adding in explanation, “went for a soldier. Seen all sorts. Seen grown men doing worse than you, lass, and I daresay there’s time afore someone comes looking for him.”

Tav managed, then, to loosen her hold on her lute. It seemed uninjured as she anxiously ran her hands over it, but she did not dare test the strings for fear of noise.

“What’s that then?” 

“My lute?”

“Thought it was a baby at first. You was holding it like one.”

“Oh - no - no - !” Somehow, she managed to laugh.

“That’s the spirit,” he encouraged. “Still, you might’ve dropped it. Would’ve been quicker on your feet.”

“I can’t,” said Tav, and patted the smooth wood. “It’s not paid off yet.”

“Makes sense, he said. “How much does one of them lutes go for?”

“Good ones? Pounds and pounds,” she replied. “This one is - it could be better - it’s not Italian - but it’s not bad. I had to get a loan.”

“Aye,” he said. “What’s your name, lass? Seems only proper to introduce ourselves. I’m Rugan.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Rugan,” said Tav in her best cut-glass finishing school accent. He huffed laughter. “My name is Tav.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“No-one has. It’s short for Gustava, which is awful, and Swedish, and I can't - I refuse to be called Gussie.”

“By the gods,” he said, shaken - as well he might be - by the full glory of her name. “I shan’t say what I think of your parents for inflictin’ that on you, lass.”